by Linda Ellen
Julie agreed wholeheartedly as the group continued to talk about it, him, and the park itself for several more minutes, until eventually the novelty of meeting Mr. Thruston faded.
The six young people then began to swap ideas about where to head next to pass the time before the main event, which happened to be a concert at the park’s Gypsy Village outdoor dance pavilion. That night’s headliner—whom Viv and MJ had been fawning over all day—was an up-and-coming crooner by the name of Frank Sinatra. Truthfully, however, Julie was more interested in spending time with Gary than going to the concert, although she would go, regardless.
Viv glanced at Julie and suddenly suggested, with a playful sparkle in her eyes, that they all take a ride in the park’s tunnel of love. To Julie’s delight, Gary was the first male to agree, and she barely stifled a hum of anticipation. All day long, he had been treating her more like a sister, or what he probably considered her—his best friend and pen pal.
Her heart sped up triple time as he held her hand and assisted her into one of the two-seater boats, and she wondered…nay hoped—he had plans. They settled in and the operator gave their boat a push, chuckling, “Have fun, kids,” causing Julie to glance at her shipmate as he shifted his gaze toward her. He smiled—and winked! She felt heat instantly surge into her neck and face.
Once past the entrance, they floated within the guideways of the mini canal, gently propelled by the flowing water. Compared to the summer heat outside, it was cool, damp, and quite pleasant within the tunnel—like a different world. Soft music lulled from unseen speakers as the water quietly lapped against the side of their boat. The noise, laughter, and sounds of the park soon faded away.
“Mmm, it’s so nice in here,” she let out a contented sigh.
“Yes it is…a little bit like a gondola in Venice, huh?” Gary responded with a smile in his tone.
“Yes…it’s so relaxing, I could stay in here forever,” Julie returned, drawing in a deep breath of cool tunnel air.
They drifted along, and once their eyes adjusted to the darkness, both perused the tunnel’s smooth walls decorated with fading, painted likenesses of couples strolling along or sitting on benches; images that an unknown artist had put there decades before.
About a minute into the six-minute ride, Julie heard Mary June giggle from somewhere up ahead, around a curve of the dimly lit tunnel.
She could guess what prompted her friend’s giggle and she shivered in hopeful expectation.
Gary noticed, and whispered, “Cold?” She answered with a delicate, “Kind of,” and he slipped an arm around her shoulders.
Nestling her head comfortably against his jaw and breathing in the pleasant lingering scent of his aftershave, she couldn’t help thinking she fit there as if they had been made for one another. Of course, that wasn’t a new thought, she reminded herself. She had known that since she had walked down the aisle on his arm at Gene’s wedding.
This could be the moment she had waited and hoped for all day…although the entire day had been enchanting from start to finish just to be with Gary, receiving his attention, laughing and talking with him. It was the stuff of dreams, and Julie knew she would never forget that day…or the man with his arm now around her. Even if these ten days were all she ever had with him, she would take them and be grateful. The only thing that could make the day better, she mused, would be for the man at her side to tell her he wanted her to be more than just a pen pal and best friend—more than just his number one cheerleader.
“I’ve enjoyed today,” he murmured, giving her a tiny squeeze. “You?”
“Yes, very much,” she nodded against him, wishing she could put this six-minute interlude on repeat like a jukebox full of nickels and only one button to push. Oh Lord…why can’t he see me as a woman…and not as Gene’s little sister…
A dozen heartbeats went by and he whispered, “Julie…I’d like very much to kiss you…”
Oh Gary! Finally! She barely stifled the exclamation from bursting forth at his sweet admission as her breath hitched and skyrockets went off in her head. “I’d like that, too…” she managed to whisper in return, and tilted her head back as she granted him permission.
He leaned in and brushed a sweet, tender kiss to her lips, and she immediately emitted a faint sigh of pleasure. His lips were warm and smooth, just like she’d imagined, and tasted of the cotton candy he’d nibbled on earlier. A part of her brain was amazed that she could feel his kiss down to her very toes, as gentle fissures of exhilaration showered down and settled on her body like a sheer, ethereal veil of sparks.
She let out a dulcet moan and raised a hand to touch his firm, tanned cheek with her fingertips. Her action seemed to ignite his passions and he deepened the kiss, pressing in with gentle movements effortlessly synchronized to hers as his hand slipped to the back of her head. What a kiss! She felt absolutely weightless. Never had a kiss affected her like this. Was she floating above the seat of the boat?
Finally he eased up and she drew back a fraction, hazily opening her eyes and trying to focus on his face in the faint light from the recessed bulbs in the walls and the tiny twinkling “stars” in the ceiling overhead. With featherlike strokes, her fingertips caressed his cheek. She couldn’t read his expression, as his eyes were dark and seemed to sparkle as if those ceiling stars had taken residence within. Or, was it that she was seeing ‘stars’ from his kiss?
Then his lips parted as if he were about to say something and she held perfectly still, waiting while her heart thudded in anticipation. But he paused and then rasped, “I’ve been wanting to thank you, Julie, for your letters and encouragement during my training. I…I can honestly say, I don’t think I would have made it through without you.”
A flood of disappointment filled her heart that he hadn’t declared undying love for her after the incredible kiss they’d just shared, and she swallowed, moistening her lips that were starving for another taste of his. But…she reminded herself…at least this is a start… and if, God forbid, anything happened to him once he was sent overseas…she knew she would treasure the memory of that kiss for the rest of her days.
He seemed to be waiting for a reply. “You’re welcome,” she managed to whisper.
Hesitating as if he were trying to make a decision, he then leaned to kiss her again just as the boat, drat the thing, rounded the last curve and they were nearly blinded by a rude intrusion of bright sunshine.
Julie wanted to scream at the injustice and beg the operator to let them go around again. But of course, she did neither…
The rest of the evening passed quite pleasantly, although Julie couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if the ride hadn’t ended at that moment…
CHAPTER 17
Monday morning, Gary found himself with nothing to do after everyone had gone back to work.
While standing at the window to his suite, sipping a steaming cup of coffee, he happened to see a B-17 flying over the city. He guessed it was heading toward the Bowman Field Army Air Base, located five miles southeast of Louisville’s downtown.
Unaccustomed to being idle, and not relishing the idea of spinning his wheels and wishing that he was spending quality alone time with Julie, he decided to head out to the airfield to see if they might allow him to hang around and maybe even take a small plane up. It had been so long since he had flown, and he really missed it. Also while there, he hoped to be granted an up-close look at that B-17. The thought of that spurred him on and quickened his pace.
When Gary stepped out of the Brown, creased, shined, and every inch an army officer, he had a good chuckle as he saw Angelo, his regular taxi driver and friend, sitting in his cab reading a copy of the Louisville Times. It was like having a personal driver waiting to serve. Angelo was ecstatic to see him and made it a point to let Gary know that he had been taking very good care of Gareth, Sr., while Gary was away.
“Hey, didn’t you tell me that you were going to join up?” Gary said after a few moments in the b
ack.
Angelo let out his customary belly laugh. “I did, Mr. Gary, but Uncle Sam, he don’t’a want me,” he explained with his delightful, relaxed on-again off-again Italian accent. “Says I got’a the flat feet. Ain’t that a kick in the pants? I says to the doc, ‘Flat feet? You’a kiddin’ me? I sit around all day in’a my cab—so somethin’ else should’a be flat, mister, but not’a my feet,’ and he says, ‘That may be, Mr. Pirelli, but alls’a I know is you’ve got flat feet and this man’s army can’t’a use you.’ Laid me low for a while, Mr. Gary,” Angelo paused, but then erupted in a jaunty cackle. “But, then I says’a to myself—me—Angelo Pirelli, I’a be the best cabbie this town’a ever saw. And if I can’a serve you military boys when you’re in town, get’a you where you need to go, then I’ll’a be servin’ my country. Capeesh?”
“Capeesh, Angelo,” Gary agreed. “And in my opinion, you are the best cabbie in town.”
The jolly cabbie let out his contagious, full-bodied laugh as Gary sat back in the seat. As the miles rolled by, his eyes were unseeing as he indulged in the memory of every second of the kisses he’d shared with Julie.
The recollection of the silken feel of her lips under his sent a jolt of desire racing through his body, just as it had when they had been together in the boat. As the kiss had gone on and on, her warmth, the lovely scent of her hair, the traces of her perfume, and her soft sighs, made him wish he could stop time and just float, right there with her, forever.
Sure, he’d kissed girls before. He hadn’t kept his nose to the grindstone all the time. Gary was no innocent, yet he was no playboy, either. However, he could honestly say that no kiss had ever affected him like that before. He’d felt that kiss with every single nerve in his body. Every. Single. Nerve.
When he’d finally come up for air, he’d almost blurted out that he was crazy about her, but still unsure of what she felt for him…if she saw him as a potential beau or just her best friend and pen pal…he’d hesitated just a bit too long. Then just as he’d gathered his nerve and opened his mouth to say, “Julie, I’m nuts about you,” sunlight pierced his eyes. Drat it all, what a moment for the ride to end!
For several seconds, he had toyed with the idea of asking her if she’d like to go around again, but he’d chickened out. Visions of himself saying to his brothers and their wives, “Oh, can you guys wait over there while Julie and I give it another go?” and then facing the inevitable questions and teasing, had stopped him cold. Then he’d spent the next hour kicking himself for being a pinheaded dope.
After that delightful six minutes alone with Julie in the romantic semi-darkness of the tunnel, the rest of the time they’d spent at the park had gone by as if he were in a fog. If someone threatened to beat him senseless, he couldn’t tell them even one song that Sinatra fellow had sung, as he hadn’t been able to keep his mind off the feel and taste of Julie’s lips—and he’d had a devil of a time keeping his hands off her.
Finally, near the end of the evening as the Idlewild backed away from the park’s landing and steamed upriver, around the long curve and through the McAlpine Locks, he had managed to squirrel Julie away from the others and carve out a few private minutes with her at the rail above the paddlewheel. Even those moments were too short, however, and he didn’t get the chance to tell her what he was feeling, much less kiss her again, as his brothers, those skunks, couldn’t seem to leave them alone. Have I really mourned the fact that I didn’t grow up with those clowns? He’d wanted to strangle them both.
But even after all of that…Julie had not spoken the words he’d longed to hear. Words like…I’m crazy about you, Gary…to heck with this “best friend” shizzle…kiss me again my blue-eyed lieutenant. Blue-eyed lieutenant? He laughed inwardly. Where’d that come from?
Shaking his head to bring his mind back to the present as the taxi reached his destination, he paid Angelo and stepped out of the cab at the main entrance to Bowman Field Army Air Base.
As he approached the guard shack, the corporal on duty saluted Gary and then stared at him expectantly after he returned the gesture. Gary raised his eyebrows at the younger man.
“See your I.D., sir?” the corporal prompted.
Feeling like an idiot, Gary fumbled with his wallet and showed the corporal his military identification card, but couldn’t help the goofy, proud smile on his face as he was admitted inside the base and directed to the administration building. This was a monumental occasion that he knew he would always remember—the first time he’d been asked to show that little item that had literally cost him blood, sweat and tears.
At the administration building, he introduced himself to the commander, Colonel Robert H. Wheat, and found him to be down-to-earth and friendly. He even invited Gary to have a seat in his office. Gary hadn’t been sure what to expect, but figured that since he wasn’t directly under the colonel’s command, or possibly since he had been connected with the defense industry in civilian life, the man could relax protocol a bit. But…it was almost as if the Colonel had been expecting him.
After a bit of chitchat about the school in Miami and the colonel’s barnstorming days, Gary was just about to ask if there was a small plane he could commandeer for a little while, when Col. Wheat mentioned offhand, “I met your father recently.”
“My father?” Gary asked, taken aback.
“Yes, he came out several weeks ago with a contingency of other defense factory executives. He’s…very proud of you,” Wheat added with an odd glance.
Gary felt a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment at that, not knowing what to make of it.
He had just opened his mouth to ask more, when suddenly there came the sound of a crash, and then a siren began to blare. The first thought that went through Gary’s mind was an air raid…but surely not this far from the coast…and his heart sprinted into take-cover mode.
With a whispered expletive, the colonel jerked the handset of his telephone off its cradle and quickly dialed the tower. “What the devil was that, Jenkins?” He listened a bit, and then grumbled a few more choice words. “I’ll be right there,” he said as he slammed the receiver down.
Standing, he glanced at Gary. “It seems one of our pilots has just slammed a P-39 into a house over on Cannon’s Lane.”
Gary swallowed a reply and not knowing what else to do, followed as the colonel rushed out of the office.
By the time they reached the site of the accident, which was just across the main road next to the base, Gary took one look and knew it didn’t bode well for the pilot, and hoped there was no one in the house. He soon heard the sad news that the pilot had died on impact.
A fire engine from the fire station at the base was already on the scene. Military firemen were rushing around in the excitement, adeptly hooking up a hose to the nearest hydrant, the atmosphere one of controlled chaos. Gary did what he could to help as policemen and other professionals performed their duties.
Later, he overheard the colonel speaking with his aid, Corporal Lucas.
“Do we know what happened yet?” the colonel asked and Lucas nodded.
“Jenkins in the tower said he couldn’t get Vincent to answer radio calls. He could see he was flying erratically, but then lost sight of him past some trees. An eye witness, that man over there,” he pointed to an elderly man talking with reporters, “said the plane appeared to be ‘floating lazily to the ground like a falling leaf’.”
The colonel frowned. “Who was Vincent’s instructor?”
“Captain Potter, sir.” The corporal answered, grimacing when the colonel swore savagely and barked, “Tell Potter to report to my office immediately!” before turning on his heel and issuing a few more orders.
Gary stood watching the man stalk away and wondered what the story with this Captain Potter would turn out to be…and why his name caused such a reaction with his commanding officer.
Later that evening after a satisfying meal at the Harriman’s dining table, Gary sat back and listened as Julie read the headli
ne of the crash from the evening newspaper.
“Army Flier Killed as P-39 Strikes House. Two children and grandmother have narrow escape; plane on training flight at Bowman Field.”
“Good heavens,” Harriet murmured.
Julie nodded and continued, “An Army pilot was killed at 8:35 a.m. today and two children and their grandmother narrowly escaped death when a P-39 fighter plane crashed into the living room of Mr. and Mrs. Kelly R. Robert’s residence, directly across from Bowman Field.”
Julie looked up at Gary, her eyes wide. “How awful.”
He nodded. “Yes, it was.”
She refocused on the paper again and scanned the lines. “It says that the pilot was identified as Second Lieutenant Julius Vincent and he was stationed at Bowman…he was on a routine training flight with two other planes…” She paused as she read further. “The little girl is three and the baby just nine months…the mother works in a defense factory, the father is a marine stationed overseas…the grandmother had just been in the living room folding clothes and had gone to the children’s room to get them dressed for breakfast…she heard a siren-like noise and then a crash and the house was suddenly filled with dirt and dust. She was afraid the walls were going to fall, so she put the children under the bed until a neighbor came and helped them out! The children and their grandmother were unharmed.”
She paused to connect with her immersed audience. “Goodness, I would have been scared out of my mind,” she exclaimed. “Thank God they weren’t hurt or killed.”
“Even so, those poor people. That woman must have been terrified, not to mention the children—to have an airplane crash into your home!” Harriet shook her head. “I wouldn’t live across from that airport for all the tea in China.”
“A P-39. Is that a large plane, Lieutenant?” Mr. Harriman asked.
Gary, seemingly deep in thought, focused on the man’s question. “No sir—although it looked large sticking half in and half out of a house—it’s a small one-engine plane with only the pilot aboard. They’re built small and light for maneuverability. It’s a fighter plane, sir.”
