by Linda Ellen
Meeting her eyes, he held them with his own. He could tell when she recognized most of the anger had lifted. She smiled at him, her eyes the purest evergreen against all of the surrounding foliage, her cheeks peaches and cream…and her hair that lovely shade of light brown. He liked the way she was wearing it, with two braided strands fastened on top like a band with the rest reaching to her shoulders in waves. Dang, but she’s beautiful…
He smiled back. “Thanks, that helped. And thanks for coming to find me, and caring,” he whispered, and then unable to stop himself, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.
“You’re welcome. That’s what best friends are for, right?” she murmured as she gently put both hands against his cheeks and kissed him back.
Yes…but man oh man, I wish we were more than that… With an affectionate smile, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her against his side. She nestled into the curve of his neck and body, then as one, matching sighs escaped as they faced toward the amazing landscape spread out below. This felt so right—the two of them together like this.
It occurred to him how much he loved this girl and this place. He couldn’t help marveling, as he drew in a slow, deep breath, how the scenery below their perch seemed lovelier somehow. The sun seemed brighter…the sky bluer…the wind fresher…the birds and insects more active. The hustle and bustle of the city seemed a thousand miles away.
It was as if he’d been under a dusty plexiglass dome before—stifled and yearning to escape. They watched reverently as an eagle launched itself from its nest in a tall tree, unfurled its wings and soared out over the terrain, effortlessly buoyed on subtle unseen wind currents.
Gradually, he felt his soul begin to fill with joy, awe, and wonder. Life seemed good again—the antithesis of just thirty minutes before. Holding the girl he loved—even though she only thought of him as her best friend—was part of that joy. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside.
The sight of the soaring, large-winged bird brought his thoughts around to flying again. The magical sensations his body experienced while at the controls of an airplane as it responded to his commands; that feeling of being master of the skies—free…unfettered…at least for the duration of his time in the air—was something that drew his soul like a magnet. Idly he wondered if B-17 pilots felt those same sensations, since those airships were so huge, bulky and heavy…so much power and speed…
Ahh, stop it, he chastised himself, determinedly steering his mind to the fact that he would be flying again, although it wouldn’t be in a fortress.
After the agitation and upset of the morning, the serene tranquility of their surroundings began to lull them both into a peaceful doze.
Some time passed, and slowly, Gary became aware of someone yelling his name. Huh? Am I imagining things? The last thing in the world he wanted right then was to have this pleasant time with Julie interrupted, but she had heard the voice as well, and looked around before sitting up and brushing leaves and bits of grass from her pants.
“Gary, someone’s calling you…”
Just then, a figure popped up onto the rock ledge of the overlook and began waving toward them, apparently quite agitated. Gary opened his eyes and focused, recognizing it was Angelo, his faithful friend and cabbie.
Then, he understood Angelo’s words…
“Mr. Gary, you gotta come quick. I don’t know what’s a happened, but…they took’a your father to the hospital!”
Gary stared at the man, hearing Julie gasp, “Oh no!” as his stomach dropped and the ground seemed to fall away beneath him.
“This is all your fault!” Charise cried as she pushed at Gary’s chest. Angelo had sped through the streets to the city hospital downtown with two very upset passengers in the back. Once there, Gary and Julie had run in and found Charise in the waiting room, pacing and wringing her hands, tears streaming down her face.
Feeling his face redden in shame, he glanced at Julie, knowing his stepmother was right. “Have the doctors said anything?” he asked and the woman shook her head, trying to sniffle back tears. He handed her his handkerchief and watched helplessly, feeling Julie gripping his hand, as Charise mopped at her face and tried to calm herself—but having no luck.
“No. They said they would let me know as soon as possible.”
“Let’s sit over there,” Julie suggested, pointing to a few empty seats in the waiting area.
After what seemed like hours, a doctor came out to speak with them and said that Gareth, Sr., had stabilized and they were moving him into a private room. They should come back the next day to see him.
The ladies eventually went home, but Gary spent a long, uncomfortable night in a chair in the waiting area. As soon as they allowed him upstairs, he found himself at the door of his father’s room, staring at the man on the bed and trying to reconcile him as Gareth Tucker, Sr.—the Houston Powerhouse. Images of his father from when Gary was small filtered through his mind…tall, confident, intimidating, larger-than-life…people always tended to say, “Yes, sir,” whenever he gave an order… Now, he looked smaller, somehow…and almost frail.
Charise is right…I did this to him…
His dad opened his eyes to smile up at the nurse who was taking his pulse and spotted him hovering.
“Son…come in…” came a shaky voice.
Gary approached the bed, although glancing at the nurse before she smiled and gave him a nod, but whispered, “Not too long, Lieutenant. He needs to rest.”
Gary nodded back and met his dad’s eyes. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he murmured, “How are you, sir?”
The elder gave a small wave with one hand. “I’m fine.”
He opened his mouth to say more, but Gary burst out, “Father, I’m sorry. For every terrible word I said, I apologize profusely, I—” stopping when his father raised the hand to halt his words.
“Don’t son. I wanted to apologize to you. I know now I have no right to keep interfering in your life. All night I’ve lain here staring at the ceiling, praying that the Man upstairs would let me make amends. You’re a grown man now, a commissioned officer, and capable of making your own decisions regarding your future.” He paused to cough, trying to clear his throat. “Son, I know I have no right to ask, but can you find it in your heart to forgive an old man for his meddling?”
With every word, Gary’s eyes had begun to fill, and now he swallowed back the tears and whispered, “Of course, father. As a matter of fact…I did just that up on a tall, magnificent hill yesterday…when my best friend prayed with me.”
His father smiled and gave a knowing nod. “That’s a girl to build a future with, son. I’m thankful that I’ve found one of those, myself.”
Gary leaned near, gripping his dad’s hand as father and son shared a smile—or rather—shared a smile as two men who had found the loves of their lives.
And in that moment, all of the years of misunderstandings and hurt melted away—and Gary knew that everything was going to be all right.
CHAPTER 19
Bowman Field Army Air Base, Louisville, KY
Three months later…
September, Gary mused. It had been three long months since his dad had suffered a heart seizure, thankfully not fatal, and Gary had begun his duties as an instructor at the small regional airfield-turned-army base.
His father had recovered and was back at work within a few weeks. Charise had been a basket case when the malady had first occurred. Terrified that she would lose yet another husband, she had begged him to retire, but had eventually come around to see that he would be fine. Gary had made peace with her as well, and it always gave him a chuckle to watch the two of them together—her fussing over him and he shooing her away and telling her he was fine. Now, the shoe was on the other foot and the old man was finding out the frustrations of being coddled and treated as if he were less than capable.
Now, as Gary sipped a Dr. Pepper and stared out the window at all of the comings and goings, he thoug
ht about his post. Although compact, as a base Bowman Field was quite active. As a matter of fact, he had found out that Bowman was one of the nation’s most important training bases as well as the nation’s busiest airport, despite its relatively diminutive size. The base was the headquarters for the Army Air Forces’ school for flight surgeons, medical technicians, and flight nurses. Gary hadn’t realized any of that before his first week following his change of orders.
At that moment, a plane was landing on one runway, while several more were lining up to take off on the other. Army trucks, jeeps, and other vehicles drove hither and yon, all with purpose. Recruits in basic training were performing jumping jacks in formation in a grassy area and Gary’s mouth lifted in a half smile as he remembered his own training days in the hot Florida sun.
Turning the other way, Gary took another mouthful of his refreshing drink and watched as a class of flight nurses in the School of Air Evacuation stood on the tarmac listening and observing as one of their instructors demonstrated some technique regarding the hanging of the litters inside a Douglas C-47 transport plane. It was an unseasonably hot day for September, and from where he was, he could see some of the women, in cotton tee shirts, regulation army trousers, and hard-soled shoes, squirming in the sweltering sun out there on the concrete.
Blue eyes that matched the hue of the sky scanned what he could see of the base and marveled at the efficiency. He’d found out that in November of 1940, before the start of the war, the somewhat tiny regional airport and been improved and expanded to accommodate the influx of soldiers and planes for wartime service. The Army Corps of Engineers extended Bowman’s two runways, constructed barracks and recreation buildings, a cafeteria that could comfortably hold 1,000 men, warehouses, a fire station, theater, hospital, a headquarters building, and bachelor officers’ barracks—which was Gary’s new home. For having only a little over four hundred acres, and surrounded on all sides by residential neighborhoods and one city park, the base was well designed and ran like a finely-tuned engine—thanks to their capable commander, Colonel Robert Wheat.
Over the weeks and months, Gary had come to respect and appreciate the colonel. Although he was a by-the-book leader, he cared about his men—and women, i.e., the flight nurses—and understood human foibles. He also understood and sympathized with Gary’s now well-hidden frustration over the snuffing out of his dream of piloting the big flying fortresses. Col. Wheat was one commanding officer that believed in giving praise where praise was due—and he regularly praised Gary for his proficiency in training the new pilots. Since Gary had joined the ranks at the field, they hadn’t even come close to having an incident like Gary had witnessed on that first visit back in June.
Now it was September.
These days, he rarely felt the crushing disappointment of his missed opportunity anymore…except maybe when one of those coveted B-17’s landed at Bowman, or he stopped what he was doing and watched one fly over on its way to Godman Field at Fort Knox.
Just then, he did hear that familiar rumble as one of the big four-engine planes began its approach for Runway 6-24.
His heart revved up like one of those engines and he headed out the door of the officer’s club and toward the largest hangar.
“Here, sweetie. I pressed your outfit for tonight,” Mrs. Harriman said as she handed Julie a red and white polka dot sundress with a smart, short-sleeved, white mini jacket.
“Thanks, Harriet,” Julie replied, taking the garment in one hand and reaching around with her other arm to give the woman, who had become like a second mom, a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“I can’t believe it’s September and still warm enough to wear it, but I’m glad. It’s my favorite outfit.” Placing the dress on a hanger, Julie hung it over the closet door and turned to see Harriet beginning to spread up her bed. “You don’t have to do that!” she protested, but the woman waved her away.
“I forgot to tell you, we got a blessing yesterday—RJ sent us a letter,” Harriet gushed as she worked to smooth the covers on Julie’s bed. “He’s safe…although I could tell he was sad that several friends of his were killed in a skirmish a few weeks ago. I’ll have to add that to my prayers,” she added with a determined nod.
Running her hands over the dress, Julie watched her, still amazed at the transformation in the woman.
In the months since Julie had moved in, Mrs. Harriman had undergone a sort of metamorphosis—or rather, God had performed a makeover. Julie’s lips curved in a small smile remembering the day back in June when she had come into the house and caught her hosts in quite an amorous kiss. “Oh, excuse me!” she had uttered and turned to skitter down the hall, but Harriet had called her back and proceeded to let her in on her momentous news. With tears of joy, and her husband’s arms secured tightly around her, she had shared with Julie that she had experienced an enlightening with the Lord the likes of which she’d never known before—and she was giving a large part of the credit to Julie.
“Me?” Julie had gasped. “But what did I do?” In truth, Julie had been ashamed that she hadn’t been able to think of the right words to say to penetrate the load of bitterness under which the woman had labored.
“Just watching you, honey,” Harriet had confided. “Your joy and zest for life…your faith in the power and love of God. I found I wanted what you had. As the days went by, I wanted it more and more until I finally got down on my knees and—as they used to say in the old days—I prayed through. When I got up off my knees, it was like I was a new person. You know that verse that says, ‘If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new’? That’s exactly how I felt! Fresh, clean, light as a feather. All of the old bitterness and misery were gone! I couldn’t wait to tell Bob when he came home.”
Her husband had chimed in, smiling down at his wife clasped in his arms. “I’m a witness to that. Harriet seems like the girl she was in our younger days—she even looks younger,” he added, and laughed when she playfully poked an elbow at his ribs. “It’s a miracle, for sure.”
Julie had never been privy to the underlying reasons for why Harriet had been the way she was—she was just glad that God had answered her prayers.
For some reason, that thought brought a pinch of sadness. Oh Lord…when are you going to answer my prayers about Gary? Images of him over the last three months since he came back from Florida floated through her mind…his smiles…his sky blue eyes…his perfect physique in that always-polished and crisp uniform. Forever polite, always friendly…yet remaining just a tad out of reach.
Sometimes, she wished she could forget the big lug and move on…find love somewhere else… A small sigh escaped as she admitted silently that the problem was she didn’t want love with someone else. She wanted Gary. Only Gary. Always and forever Gary.
Harriet straightened from her task and glanced at Julie, noticing the change in expression.
“What’s wrong, honey?” A few beats went by and the woman’s eyes narrowed perceptively. Reaching down to casually fluff the accent pillows on the bed, she asked, “Will your lieutenant be at the club tonight, do you think?”
A snort of frustration escaped before Julie could stop it. “I don’t know, I suppose so. He usually does. But, he’s not my lieutenant.” My blue-eyed lieutenant, her heart whispered. Oh shut up and put a sock in it, she mentally admonished the errant organ. “I told you, he thinks of me as his best friend, that’s all.”
With a discerning nod, Harriet came around the bed and reached out to clasp Julie’s arms, gently forcing her to meet her eyes. “And why is that?”
Pressing her lips together, Julie shrugged one shoulder and looked away. “Because that’s all I’ll ever be to him. First, he was Gene’s long-lost brother and I was just the little sister. Then, he was my boss and I was his employee. Then, I was his friend and pen pal. Then, I was the girl who saved his father’s life. And now…” she paused and gave another helpless shrug. “Now, I’m just the girl
he tells his problems to…or his joys, or his triumphs or frustrations. I’m his confidant. Even…” she hesitated and met Harriet’s eyes again. “Even after kissing me with enough passion to set a house afire, he didn’t pursue me, or want me as his girlfriend. Now, when he sees me, he gives me a kiss on the cheek! Oh, I might as well be his sister, too,” she fretted miserably.
Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears as she stared into the older woman’s sympathetic gaze. “What’s wrong with me, Harriet? Why can’t he see me as more than just a plain little farm girl? Or Gene’s little sister? Or a worker in his father’s defense plant? Or a girl to dance with at the USO? Or just his best buddy? I’ve prayed and prayed that he would look at me like Steve looks at Mary June…or Gene looks at Viv…but…” her voice broke into a sob.
Feeling as if the dam had broken as well as her heart, she closed her eyes as Harriet wrapped comforting arms around her and patted her back, rocking gently back and forth, as Julie succumbed to the months of frustration and disappointment. Harriet rocked as Julie wept, until the older woman finally pulled back and retrieved a tissue from an apron pocket. Julie took it gratefully and mopped her messy face.
Smiling affectionately, Harriet asked with care, “Have you ever told him that you’re in love with him, dear?”
Julie’s eyes popped open wide as she choked out, “No! Oh Harriet, if…if I told him that, and he couldn’t say it in return, I would be mortified! I’d never be able to face him again! Then, I wouldn’t even have him as a friend!”
The woman merely allowed her lips to spread into a wide, mischievous grin. Then, her eyebrows bobbed teasingly. “Did I ever tell you about my courting days with Bob?”
