The Victory Club

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  She turned her gaze from the window. "Trust God, Lucy. Just keep trusting Him, no matter what."

  Chapter 63

  Lucy sat on the front pew of the base chapel, staring at the gold cross on the altar. She'd sat here for the past hour, waiting. Waiting for what, she couldn't say. Just waiting.

  Trust Me.

  Ah. This was why she waited. To hear His inaudible but unmistakable voice.

  She bowed her head. I do trust You, Lord.

  Trust Me with Richard.

  She stared at her clenched hands and realized she clenched her husband's memory in the same way. God couldn't give her anything, not even an answer to her prayers, until she opened her hands—and her heart—in trust. She must let go before she could receive.

  "Faith," she whispered, quoting the familiar verse, "is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen."

  But what I want to believe is that Richard's coming home. Lord, will You promise me he's coming home?

  She strained to hear God's answer. She willed Him to tell her what she wanted to hear. She willed Him to tell her that her husband would be all right, that He would restore Richard to her.

  Trust Me, beloved.

  God's will and not her own. Did she want her way or God's way? She knew the answer. As much as she loved Richard and wanted him back in her arms, she wanted God's way more. Truly, she did.

  But at what cost?

  Air rushed out of her lungs as she slipped from the pew to her knees. "Help me choose Your way, Lord." She squeezed her eyes closed and pressed folded hands to her forehead. "No matter the cost, let me choose You."

  On the runway, airplane engines roared to life. A vehicle rumbled past the chapel. Men's voices rose and fell in the distance.

  But those sounds could not compete with the voice of Love: Take delight in Me, beloved, and I will place My desires into your heart and make them yours.

  She grew still. Not simply her body. Everything. Her mind. Her soul. Her spirit.

  All was still. She was at peace in the midst of her turmoil.

  She would be all right, Lucy realized. She would be all right because no matter what tomorrow brought with it—even if it was more heartache—she would stubbornly, determinedly, and with Gods help, choose to delight in the Lord.

  Chapter 64

  Margo turned off the classroom lights before stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her. The bundle of exams she clutched to her chest weighed a ton. The heat of the afternoon was oppressive, zapping the last iota of strength from her body.

  Releasing a deep breath, she headed toward the exit.

  "Mrs. King?"

  She swallowed a groan at the sound of Colonel Rhodes' voice. Not that she minded talking to her boss. But if he asked her to take on another class or special pupil …

  She turned around.

  The colonel smiled as he strode toward her from the far end of the corridor. "I've heard from Travis. He's back in England."

  "Oh, Colonel. That's wonderful news. I'm so glad."

  "My son said to tell you—" His expression sobered, and his gaze was intense— "that he found your French lessons most helpful."

  "Thank God."

  "Yes," Colonel Rhodes said with a nod. After a short hesitation, he continued, "You must be headed home. Mind if I walk with you? I'm headed in that general direction myself."

  She was surprised by the request but answered, "Not at all."

  "Good." He motioned for Margo to proceed, then fell into step beside her, shortening his stride to match hers. When they reached the outside door, he held it open for her.

  As she moved past him into the hazy light of the August afternoon, Margo felt her heart flutter and her knees go weak. Good gracious. How odd. What was wrong with her? She hoped she wasn't about to experience heatstroke.

  "It's a scorcher," Colonel Rhodes said, as if reading her mind.

  Margo was relieved to discover that her legs held her upright. It would be embarrassing to crumple to the ground in front of this man.

  "I've been meaning to ask how your daughter is faring."

  "Dottie's well. Fat and happy and eagerly awaiting the arrival of the baby."

  "When's it due?"

  "The end of September or early October." She wondered if he did some quick calculations in his head, coming up short a few months.

  If he did, he gave no indication. "And how's her husband? Any change in his vision?"

  "He can make out some light and shadows, but that's all. The doctors finally told him that's as good as it will ever be. But Greg is a courageous young man. I think he accepted the facts long before the doctors confirmed them." She smiled to herself, thinking how much she enjoyed being with her son-in-law. "He's scheduled to get a Seeing Eye dog later this fall, and he's even looking into taking some courses at the college."

  They walked in silence for a short while before the colonel spoke again. "Mrs. King, I need to tell you something. You'll have a new supervisor as of next week."

  "You're leaving Gowen Field?"

  "No. I'll still be on this base. I'm being reassigned."

  Margo's relief was out of proportion to the importance of his announcement. Officers were often reassigned in the military.

  She cast a sideways glance in Colonel Rhodes' direction and found him watching her. When their gazes met, he grinned.

  There was that silly flutter in her chest again.

  Colonel Rhodes touched her elbow, bringing both of them to a halt. "Mrs. King, now that I'll no longer be your supervisor, I wondered if you would have dinner with me some evening."

  "Dinner?" she echoed.

  "Yes."

  "Well, I—"

  "Please, Mrs. King. I'm tired of eating alone or with the other officers. It would be nice to sit at the table and see an attractive woman across from me."

  He thought her attractive?

  "Here comes your bus." There was a teasing twinkle in his eyes as he added, "You'd better say yes before you miss it."

  Breathlessly, she said, "Yes, Colonel Rhodes. I … I'd like to have dinner with you."

  "Wonderful." His smile broadened. "I'll call you at home and we can pick an evening that's good for you." He took a step back. "And I hope you'll call me Vance from now on."

  She nodded.

  He tugged the brim of his hat—a kind of mini salute of respect—then turned and strode away.

  She stared after him, feeling dazed. Did what she think just happened really happen? Did she, Margo King, actually have a date after all these years?

  Laughter bubbled up inside her as she turned her gaze toward the sky.

  It would seem, Lord, that You still work miracles in our time.

  Chapter 65

  Lucy observed Colonel Rhodes as he walked away from Margo. Margo, however, didn't budge.

  Lucy cupped one hand to the side of her mouth and called, "Margo, you're going to miss the bus! Hurry!"

  Her friend turned, and the bemused look on her face caused Lucy to wonder what had transpired between the officer and his civilian employee.

  The bus door whooshed open. "Afternoon, Mrs. Anderson," Jeb said. "How was your day?"

  "It was good, Mr. Pratt. And yours?"

  "Can't complain, although I'll be glad to see cooler weather get here."

  Lucy glanced in Margo's direction and saw her friend walking swiftly toward the stop. Then she climbed onto the bus. Moments later, Margo sat on the seat next to her.

  "What's up with you?" Lucy asked softly as the bus jerked into motion.

  The corners of Margo's mouth curved into a wry grin. "Colonel Rhodes asked me out to dinner."

  "I thought he was married. Didn't you tutor his son last spring?"

  "He's a widower."

  Lucy smiled. "So what did you tell him? Did you accept?"

  "I … I said … yes."

  "Well, hallelujah! It's about time."

  Margo's grin vanished, and her brows drew together in a frown. "
I haven't gone out with a man in … in years. I won't know what to say or how to act." She gave her head a slight shake. "I'm no spring chicken, Lucy, and I'm no raving beauty. I don't know why he asked me."

  "Don't be silly." Lucy put an arm around her friend's shoulders and gave her a hug. "It's obvious Colonel Rhodes realizes how special you are. You'll both have a wonderful time."

  "I wish I was as sure as you seem to be," Margo mumbled under her breath.

  Lucy laughed. "Have a little faith."

  They rode in silence for a while—a worried silence, if her friend's continued frown meant anything—before Lucy introduced a new topic for discussion.

  "Margo, I'd like to give Dottie a baby shower. Would you mind? All I'll need is a guest list from Dottie."

  The distressed expression left Margo's face, replaced by a look of tenderness. "You always think of others, Lucy. You're the kindest woman I know."

  She shook her head. "I can be as selfish and thoughtless as anyone else."

  "Well, my dear, I've seen no such evidence."

  God has, Lucy thought as she glanced out the bus window. But then she recalled His whispered Trust Me, and she felt His grace wash over her once again. Yes, God knew her faults. He knew her every thought. Before she spoke, He knew what she would say. Yet He loved her.

  "Amazing," she whispered.

  "I'm sorry?"

  Lucy gave her head another small shake. "Nothing. Just talking to myself."

  The bus slowed to a stop and Margo stood. "I'll ask Dottie who she'd like at her shower. I'll bring the list in the morning."

  "A short list," Lucy said with a laugh. "Remember, my apartment isn't large."

  "Will do." Margo waved her hand, then stepped off the bus.

  Lucy leaned back on the seat, closed her eyes, and began making plans. Dottie was … hmm … about six weeks from delivery so the shower needed to be soon. A Saturday afternoon would be the best day and time for Lucy. Or maybe they should have it in the morning, instead, before the day got too warm. Then, if there were many guests, they could have the party outside on the lawn.

  "Comin' up on your stop, Mrs. Anderson."

  Lucy opened her eyes, surprised to find she'd been lost in thought so long. "Thanks, Mr. Pratt."

  The walk home from the bus stop was a short one, and Lucy was glad of it. The August sun was brutal. As she followed the narrow sidewalk around to her back entrance, her gaze fell on her Victory Garden. It was in need of weeding. She hadn't given it the attention it required. Maybe later this evening she would get to it, after the sun fell lower in the western sky and the earth cooled.

  She turned the corner and was reaching for her house key when she saw Penelope Maxfield rise from the stoop. "Pen?"

  "Hi, Luce. Hope you don't mind me dropping by like this."

  "Of course not. I'm glad you came." She stepped toward the door. "How are you?"

  Penelope shrugged. "Okay." But she didn't look okay. There was something sad and hopeless about the expression in her eyes and in the downward turn of her mouth. But the resolute set of her shoulders spoke of something different—something hard and unyielding.

  Lucy wondered what Penelope wanted. If she'd learned anything over the course of the past year, it was that Penelope always thought of herself before others. At one time, Lucy had hoped she could be an agent of God's peace to this troubled young woman. Lucy had tried to befriend her, as had Dottie and Margo. Had they failed completely?

  "Come inside," Lucy invited, "and I'll get us a cold drink."

  Penelope followed Lucy into the apartment. "Stuart told me about Richard. I'm sorry."

  "Thank you."

  In the ten days since Lucy had received the telegram, she'd learned the best response to other people's expressions of sympathy was a simple one. Best for them. Best for her.

  She set her purse on the kitchen counter, then opened the refrigerator and removed the pitcher of tea. "I'm glad you're home again, Pen. I'm planning a baby shower for Dottie, and you'll want to be there."

  "When are you having it?"

  "I'm not sure." Lucy put ice into two tall glasses and filled them with tea. "Two or three weeks. Can't wait much longer. The baby will be here soon." She turned, glasses in hand.

  Penelope stood looking out the window. "I'm not sure I'll be here in two or three weeks."

  "Why not? Where are you going?"

  "I've made up my mind. I … I can't stay with Stuart. I want out." She turned from the window at last.

  Lucy caught a glimpse of such emptiness of the soul, such despair, it made her sick at heart. The look was replaced a moment later with one of bitterness.

  "I hate who I am when I'm here, Luce. I hate who I am when I'm with Stuart. I'm unhappy, and I make everybody else unhappy, too."

  Lucy tried to think of something to say. She tried to think of the right thing to say.

  "I want a divorce."

  "Oh, Pen, no." Lucy sank onto a chair at the table. "Surely it isn't as bad as that."

  Penelope sat, too. "It is that bad. Stuart and I … we don't love each other. I dislike him. No. Worse than that. I hate him, and my hate is stronger than my love ever was. If I ever did love him." She shrugged. "I can't stay with things like that between us. I'm too young to be miserable for the rest of my life, married to the wrong guy. I deserve to be happy. Everybody does. I only came back because I lost my job and didn't have a place to live. I didn't know where else to go. But it was a mistake to come back. I don't belong here, and I sure don't belong with him."

  Lucy felt sick to her stomach. "What about the children?"

  "They don't need me. They've got Stuart."

  "But they do need you, Pen. You're their mother, and children always need their mother."

  Penelope stood. "Being a mom's not all it's cracked up to be. Snotty noses and skinned knees and all the whining." She blew out a breath as she walked across the kitchen, her agitation obvious. "You don't know what it's like, always having somebody demanding your attention. I never have time to do what I want."

  Lucy felt an overwhelming desire to slap Penelope. Does she have any idea how selfish she is?

  Penelope lowered her voice as she returned to the table. "I met this guy the other night. Ned. He's handsome and single, and he's a lot of fun. He's asked me to go away with him, and I'm going."

  "Don't do this, Pen. It's wrong. You'll regret it. Don't throw away your family for—"

  "Are you going to tell me it's wrong to want to be happy? Stuart's never going to make me happy. All he wants is a home and the kids. He's never going to have a job where he makes enough money. Besides, he's an old stick-in-the-mud. I don't like him, can't stand to be around him, and he sure doesn't like me." Penelope motioned toward Lucy with her right hand, a challenge in her gesture. "Ned likes me. He likes me just like I am. We have fun when we're together." She released an exasperated sigh. "Why do I bother? You'll never understand."

  Lucy almost said Penelope was right. She felt angry and frustrated with Penelope's attitude and thoughtlessness, and she wanted to tell her so.

  Do you love Me, beloved?

  Lucy caught her breath, sensing the Lord had something important to say to her. And she was certain it wouldn't include giving Penelope an angry piece of her mind.

  For I, the Lord, cause everything to work together for the good of those who love Me.

  All things working together for good … All things working together for good … All things …

  A tiny shiver followed on the heels of understanding. You'll use even my mistakes, won't You, Lord? You'll use my sins to help others if I give them to You and don't try to keep them hidden.

  Lucy looked up. "Pen, I've made some bad choices this past year. I'd like to keep you from doing the same."

  Penelope cocked an eyebrow.

  "I … I was so lonely I almost … I almost betrayed Richard. I did betray him in my heart."

  "You? Miss Goody Two-shoes, unfaithful to her husband?"

 
Lucy ignored the barb. God wanted her to love Penelope, no matter what. "I shared that so you'd know I understand some of what you're feeling. I've experienced the temptations that are out there." She drew a deep breath and released it. "But I also know God's awesome power and His great love for us. He'll help us overcome the temptations if we let Him. He helped me."

  "Spare me the sermonizing, Lucy. I've had all of that I can stomach from Dottie and Margo." She turned toward the door. "I was afraid it would be a mistake to come here, and I was right. Nobody cares about my happiness but me."

  Lucy rose. "You're so wrong. God cares."

  Penelope groaned as she yanked open the door.

  "Pen, don't throw away your family. You'll live to regret it if you do."

  But Penelope didn't listen. She didn't hesitate an instant. She walked out of the apartment without a backward glance.

  Lucy followed as far as the stoop. She stopped there, knowing it was futile to chase after Penelope. "Why couldn't she hear me, Lord? I thought I was doing what You wanted me to do, but she didn't hear. I don't understand."

  In answer, she recalled what Jesus told His disciples: One person plants and someone else harvests.

  Trust Him. That's what God had asked of her earlier today in the base chapel. That's what He asked of her now. Trust Him with Penelope. Trust Him with Richard. Trust Him with her future.

  Part VII

  October 1943

  To: 1st Lt. Richard Anderson, APO, N.Y.P.E.

  From Lucy Anderson

  Saturday, October 2, 1943

  My darling Richard

  Once, again I sit down to write a letter that I cannot mail. It is almost two months since I received the telegram telling me you were missing in action. Two months and still no word and still I write. There are a stack of letters for you in a shoebox now. A stack of letters that I pray God will allow you to read one day.