by Linda Ellen
Bing’s ultra smooth voice crooned words that Julie had been unconsciously thinking about this man who was too quickly becoming so special to her heart. The popular vocalist sang of wondering when he and his girl would meet again and that at the sight of her, his heart began to pound.
Once again, it was as if Gary somehow tapped into her thoughts, as his brooding eyes sought and held her pine green gaze, his vivid blue dimmed to a stormy gray.
The two couples had returned to their dancing. Gary stood up and without asking, reached down and took both of Julie’s hands, gently drawing her to her feet and smoothly into his arms, where he immediately began guiding her effortlessly around the floor.
Oh, why did it feel so right and so good—to be sheathed in his arms like this? Especially when, come Monday morning, he intended to sign himself up to be whisked away from all of them, and sent who knows where.
Determinedly, Julie put that thought out of her mind. She would just enjoy this night with family and friends.
The rest of the evening floated by on the wings of an eagle.
CHAPTER 5
On Monday afternoon, Gary stepped out of one of the sets of double doors to the Federal Building on West Broadway and into the bright sunshine. Taking a deep, brain-reviving breath of cold air, he glanced over his shoulder at the six-story, block long concrete and limestone building, and a silly grin plastered itself on his face.
Over the past five hours he had answered hundreds of questions, filled out countless forms, and been poked, prodded, and examined, but it had all been worth it because now, he was officially a member of the United States Army. That is…he would be once he completed his training and received his commission.
He felt like celebrating.
Starting off at a brisk pace for a jaunty five-minute walk to the Brown, his thoughts were running a replay of the day.
He had awakened bright and early that morning, took pains with his shower and shave, then had walked into the Army Recruiting Office just after it opened, informing the clerk who he was and that he was signing up.
Once the young red-haired, freckle faced private at the desk realized that Gary was, indeed, the CEO of one of the local defense contractors, he asked him to have a seat and disappeared back into the labyrinth of offices.
A minute later, a man of average height in his mid-thirties with short, coal black hair and piercing walnut-hued eyes, approached and introduced himself as First Sergeant Paul Wellinghoff, who then asked Gary to come with him to his office. Gary complied, noticing that the man’s uniform was especially neat and crisp, not a thread out of place, with every button and adornment gleaming, not to mention his shoes. His office was the same way, lending to Gary’s perception of meticulous precision that was the United States Armed Forces.
After he’d invited Gary to tell him a little about his background, Sergeant Wellinghoff had begun, “Well, Mr. Tucker, Uncle Sam is always on the lookout for quality men like yourself; men with college degrees, a good head for business, etc., who are willing to serve. Do you have a particular branch of the army you are interested in?”
Gary sat forward and rubbed his hands together, still feeling a bit of the chill from the weather outside. “Well, yes. I have my pilot’s license and I’m looking to get a commission to the Army Air Corps. I want to fly bombers.”
The man had smiled and pulled out a few forms. “Excellent. I’ll need you to fill these out and I’d like to go ahead and get your physical out of the way,” he said, pushing the papers over to Gary and handing him a pencil. While Gary did so, the sergeant continued to ask him questions, all the while making notations, nodding, and obviously planning things out.
Once he was finished there, he had been directed to another floor of the mammoth building where he had undergone a battery of medical tests and after several hours, was finally pronounced to be in top physical shape.
Later, back in Wellinghoff’s office, the man had informed him that he had made a few phone calls and had spoken with not only Gary’s flight instructor at Easterwood Field back in Texas, but also with two of his professors at Texas A&M. Gary was a bit shocked at the speed of that, but figured, being the government, they could cut through red tape when needed. The recruiter related that both professors had sung his praises as a patriotic young man who possessed the potential to go far—and they both felt he would make a fine officer. Also, Gary’s flight instructor had declared him the best student he’d ever had, with a true, natural aptitude and love for flying.
Feeling warmth and gratitude for the praise, Gary admitted, “I do enjoy it, although I’m afraid I haven’t been up in a plane since my college days. I miss it.” Admittedly, once he had moved back to Houston after graduation, he knew that if he’d gone to any airstrips nearby to rent a plane for a day, his father was sure to have found out. As it was, Gareth Sr. still did not know that his son had spent hundreds of hours flying above the surrounding countryside and sprawling buildings of the college—many of those solo, once he’d received his formal certification. For Gary, there was nothing so liberating as soaring up above everything, much like a proverbial eagle.
Gary and the recruiter had discussed a few more subjects, including the fact that he had decided to exercise his authority and place Gary straight into OTS, Officer Training School, at the Miami Beach Training Center in Florida. Gary had then asked if it would be possible to delay his departure at least a month, to give his father time to find a replacement to run the company in his absence. He chose to omit his desire to be able to attend Steve and Mary June’s wedding on the 14th of February.
Sergeant Wellinghoff had consulted some paperwork and nodded in agreement, declaring that Gary would be required to board a bus for Florida on Sunday evening, February 16, to be exact. That suited Gary just fine.
After asking the new recruit if he had any more questions or concerns, Gary had said no and after signing the induction papers, they had then shaken hands, and the recruiter thanked him for coming in and welcomed him into the United States Army.
Reaching the entrance to the hotel, Gary found himself whistling the theme song to, This is the Army, Mr. Jones, as he made his way inside and strolled toward the elevators. His mind was on the myriad of things that needed to be done before the sixteenth—not the least of which was to break the news to his father.
“Excuse me, Mr. Tucker?” came a voice from his left.
Gary turned his head and realized the desk clerk was waving him over.
“Yes, what is it?”
“You have a telegram,” the man replied, handing Gary a small envelope when he reached the counter.
“Thank you,” Gary responded, walking slowly toward the lift as he opened and read the message.
“COMING TO LOUISVILLE BY TRAIN STOP ARRIVING FRIDAY COMMA 8 PM COMMA TRACK 4 COMMA UNION STATION STOP LOOKING FORWARD TO VISIT STOP REGARDS COMMA DAD”
With a nod, he folded the missive and slipped it into his pocket. Well, I won’t have to make that telephone call after all…but this means telling him in person…
With a huff, Gary boarded the elevator, acknowledging the familiar operator with a pre-occupied greeting.
He had plans to make.
Monday morning dawned bright and early for Julie.
The previous day had been a busy one. True to her word, Mary June had talked it over with her parents and although her mother had balked at first, they eventually were fine with having a boarder move into RJ’s old room.
Julie’s parents knew that their daughter had been frustrated and dissatisfied with her seemingly stagnant life on the farm since she had graduated from high school, and although they were going to miss her, they had given their blessing as well. That is, once they had finished their interrogation over where she would be living. Her dad had stipulated, however, that he reserved the right to change his mind until after he had delivered her and her belongings and gotten acquainted with the people with whom his youngest daughter would be rooming.
Presently, Julie, her
mother, and her sister Laura, were in the bedroom the sisters had always shared, busy packing Julie’s things into an old steamer trunk as she prepared for the next chapter of her life. She glanced over and saw Phyllis surreptitiously wiping a tear.
“Aw Mama, it’s not like I’m moving to Texas or something,” Julie gently chided, absently wondering why she had phrased it like that. “We’ll talk on the phone and I’ll tell you all about my new job, when I get it, and how things are going. Everything will be fine.”
“Oh honey, I know…and I knew this day was coming—the day I would help you pack and you moved out, although I had always pictured it as being when you got married—it’s just hard for a mom to stop being a mom, I guess,” Phyllis chuckled as she reached for a tissue to wipe her nose.
Julie gave her a hug. “Well, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Laura smiled a trifle sadly as she watched her mother and sister, and then showed Julie a dress from the closet. “Do you want to take this purple one?”
Julie pulled back and looked at the item. “No, I always hated that dress. It looks better on you, why don’t you keep it?”
“Alright,” Laura answered in her soft way, as she turned to put it back.
“Now, tell me again about the job,” her mother requested as she placed a few more items down in the trunk.
Julie gave a slight shrug as she folded a sweater. “I’m not sure yet. Gary said it would be no problem to find me something at the plant. In his words, something that required a delicate touch and dexterity,” she added, a twinkle in her eye as she thought of him and the hours the six young people had spent together on Saturday evening… and of her dancing in his arms…
Her mother, eagle eye Phyllis, saw the sparkle. “Gary…is he as nice as Steve? I haven’t really had the chance to talk to him, yet.”
“Oh yes, he’s wonderful,” Julie replied. “In many ways, he’s a lot like Gene and Steve. But…in other ways…probably because of his education and upbringing, he’s very different. More refined. He’s kind and generous, and more of a polished gentleman…not that Gene isn’t a gentleman,” she added with a chuckle. “But…Gary is obviously accustomed to having money, and he’s very much a professional businessman. I’m sure he handles the running of his company well—and I’m equally sure he will make a fine officer in the Air Corps, and with just as much self-confidence.”
Her mother and sister exchanged knowing looks and smiles, both of them thinking that Julie probably didn’t even realize she was touting his praises with something akin to hero worship.
Phyllis wondered how her daughter had come to know Gene’s second brother so quickly as Julie continued, “He told us his father has no idea he has his pilot’s license. Matter of fact, his father has always had a fear of flying. Dad Tucker’s only been up in a plane one time—a bi-plane not long after the First World War. The plane ran out of fuel and they had a rough landing, and he decided he would never fly again—and he never allowed his wife or son to fly. When Gary went to college, though, he was eighteen and didn’t need his father’s permission, so…” she paused as her mind went back again to the hours spent in his hotel suite, and more specifically, the time she had sat side by side on the couch with him as he shared with the five of them why he loved flying…
“Taking off in a small plane is one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever known,” he had begun, his eyes dreamy as he relived those moments. “I’ve been up dozens of times, and it’s never lost its magic.”
Watching the expressions on his face, Julie asked with gentle curiosity, “What’s it like? I’ve never been in a plane, and frankly, I think I’d be scared…”
Gary had smiled, meeting her eyes for a moment, and then his gaze rose a little above her head to an unseen memory that only he could see; somewhere behind those amazing blue irises. “Imagine…you’re riding along in a vehicle, only this one has wings. You can feel the tires thrumming along on the runway, going faster and faster, and your pulse seems to be keeping time with the rotations. And then, you pull back on the stick and you no longer feel the solidness of the ground beneath you. It’s as if your body is suddenly lighter than air. Your chest expands as you breathe in the unadulterated freedom of it. Everything smoothes out and it doesn’t take very much height for this quiet serenity to enfold you. You become one with the airplane, and you’re totally alone, just you and the sky and the clouds…and God. It’s like, you can hear your own thoughts louder than you can on the ground,” he added with a self-conscious snort as he glanced around at the faces of his brothers and friends. None of them had ever flown and each one was trying to wrap his or her mind around what he was telling them.
“The sights from the air seem unreal…like the shadow of your own plane moving along the ground below as you fly along…or the sun shimmering on the surface of a lake…or watching a string of cars motoring down a highway and realizing you are actually going three times faster than they are…or recognizing beaches and towns as you fly overhead, but everything seems miniaturized. Farms and houses of the landscape resemble a green and brown patchwork quilt and the roads look like threads. It gives you a feeling of power, maybe even a little bit of supremacy, that you’re ‘above’ everything.” Pausing for a few moments as he reminisced and they imagined, he added, “That is…until it’s time to come back down to earth. When your wheels touch down, all of the problems in your life kind of press in on you and you almost feel heavier than before you lifted off.”
His audience had exchanged looks, but before they could ask him what problems he meant, he had smacked and rubbed his hands together and launched himself up from the couch. “Let’s see if we can’t find some good music on this stupid thing,” he had announced as he went over and flopped down in front of the radio…
Phyllis’ voice brought Julie back to the present. “I feel a bit sorry for Dad Tucker.”
Julie let out a soft sigh and met her mother’s eyes. “So do I. Something tells me he’s going to take Gary’s news even harder than Gary fears.”
The week seemed to fly by and before Gary was mentally prepared, it was Friday and he was standing near track four at Union Station.
On edge, he methodically scanned what must have been hundreds of people—passengers and soldiers embarking and disembarking, wives, mothers and families excitedly greeting or tearfully sending off. Gary felt very much alone in the crowd. The raucousness of so many voices in the confines of the huge station at once was nearly overwhelming.
Then a leather-jacketed airman ran to a group of people on Gary’s left and he swept his wife up and swung her around as she laughed in delight.
It took Gary’s mind back to two nights before, when he and his brothers and the girls had enjoyed one another’s company in his hotel suite. Especially, Gary had to admit, when he had enjoyed Julie’s company…
With a spreading smile, he pictured her right after they had finished their jitterbug to Pistol Packin’ Mama and had flopped down with the others to catch their breaths.
Julie had leaned against him as she brought both hands up to smooth her hair, and then tilted her head back to look at him with those sparkling green eyes. He’d been nearly spellbound and couldn’t seem to drag his gaze from hers. Those eyes made him think of pine trees shimmering in the snow, and they drew him like a magnet. The dress she was wearing…the cinched waist and round neckline accentuating her figure, while the print—green with little white flowers, made her eyes look that much more verdant. She had the most adorable dimples and smooth, flushed cheeks, not to mention that long, wavy light brown hair, which she had attractively pulled up on top of her head and let the rest cascade down her shoulders and back. Something told him if he wasn’t careful, he could fall for her, hard and fast.
Now, he thought about how she had clung to his arm as they had exited the store…and then, unbidden, came the image of her perched astride his hips as he lay beneath her on the floor when he had stumbled and fell with her in his arms. The
potent memory of the heat of that most private part of her body touching his, even through their clothing, sent a surge of lust through his loins so strong he sucked in a breath of ice-cold evening train-station air and shook his head as he recalled Steve’s words… “She’s Gene’s baby sister, that makes her off limits. She’s not a sophisticated, well-traveled woman. She’s a sweet, innocent farm girl who’s never traveled more than fifty miles away from home.”
She’s Gene’s baby sister. Remember that, Tucker!
The problem was, the lovely Miss Julie Banks was anything but a child. Warm-blooded, all-American girl next door—yes. The kind of girl a man fights a war for and looks forward to settling down with—yes. Bright, pretty, funny, and sweet—yes. Hardworking, loyal, and loving—yes.
A baby? No way.
As he had danced with her and held her in his arms, he had realized he’d never felt such chemistry with a girl before. Being with her had felt so…right.
But she’s Gene’s little sister… So—what’s a fella to do in a situation like this? Indeed, he had tossed and turned over that question more than once since first meeting her at his brother’s wedding, and had yet to come up with a suitable answer.
Just then, through the sea of bodies on the platform, he spotted the familiar dark brown overcoat and matching hat of his father making his way through the crowd.
“Father!” Gary called, vigorously waving an arm when the older man looked up and saw him from twenty yards away. They happily made their way toward one another.
Upon contact, the elder Tucker set down his bags and embraced his son.
“It’s good to see you, my boy,” Gareth, Sr. heartily expressed as he thumped Gary on the back.
Gary cringed slightly at the customary address. My boy.
By the time he was eighteen, he had become extremely wearied of being called a boy, and now the word rankled him and set his teeth on edge—worse than fingernails on a chalkboard—although if called upon to articulate why, he’d be hard pressed to do so. Knowing his father did not mean the term as an insult, but rather as an endearment, didn’t help.
