by Jina Bacarr
‘Jeff, Jeff!’ I yell as I race madly toward him and he jumps off the three rail steps with ease and jams toward me. Tall and strong, his long overcoat whipping against his muscular legs, no hat as usual, eyes blazing hot with so much love for me, my legs buckle. I want to grab him, kiss him, but I control the urge because I’m still reeling over the painful words in his letter. It’s a mistake, it has to be. We’ll be celebrating Christmas together this year and for years to come.
‘Kate, how did you find me?’ His laugh is anxious, but still I hear mirth in his voice like he’s happy to see me.
‘It’s our wedding day, Jeff.’ I snuggle up to his broad chest, once again feeling safe and protected. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘Didn’t you read my letter?’ His joy turns to something dark in his eyes I can’t read, a raw fear I’ve never seen there before. Even the tiny jagged scar above his right brow deepens. As if he’s unsure how to explain the awful words he wrote with a shaky hand.
‘Yes, but it doesn’t mean we can’t get married anyway,’ I plead, looking at him, my lashes wet with tears I refuse to let fall.
‘Oh, Kate… Jelly Girl, my orders came through and I have to go alone. That’s why I couldn’t pick you up,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘I gave the stationmaster directions to deliver the letter to you at the mill if he didn’t find you.’ Then, before I can speak, he cups my face in his hand. ‘Just know that whatever happens in this war, I love you and always will.’
‘Then show me, Jeff,’ I whisper with so much need for him, and we both forget we’re in a train station filled with soldiers and civilians, porters. Smoky and loud, but not for us. As if time stands still. I’ll never forget his hand sliding around my waist and, before I can rise up on my toes to kiss him, he presses me close to him.
‘I have to go, Jelly Girl.’ He blurts out the words in a hot whisper in my ear and panic overwhelms me.
‘You can’t get on that train without me, Jeff, you can’t!’
I pout, curl my lower lip, and stomp my foot. Yes, I’m acting like a silly schoolgirl, but I have a right. I’m supposed to get married today.
I look around at the civilians seeing off soldiers, the anguish on their faces. A child’s trembling hand brushing the sleeve of an Army uniform, the mumbled words of a man telling his wife not to worry with a cracking voice, the sniffling sounds of a mother who can’t look into her son’s eyes because she doesn’t want him to see her crying.
Oh, what a selfish girl you are, Kate Arden. There’s a war going on and all you think about is yourself. Let him go. Do his part, while you do yours here on the home front.
I glance back at Jeff, the sun spilling down from the heavens through the glass ceiling, his jaw set with a purpose so true I accept what I know now is my job in this war. To be the strong woman I purport to be. To keep him in my heart, but let him go.
The train whistle drags me out of my stupor with a sharp blast. The piercing look in his eyes makes me tremble. It tells me he doesn’t want to leave me like this, hurting so.
‘It’s not goodbye, Jeff,’ I begin, that holy voice that keeps whispering inside me louder, clearer than ever. ‘What is it you always tell me in French?’
‘Au revoir.’ He nuzzles his cheek against mine. ‘Till we meet again.’
I repeat the words with what I’m certain is a horrible accent, but he smiles. Slow and heartfelt. His face bears the smoothness of youth, but his expression is that of a man who knows he’s facing the brutality of war, something I can’t grasp no matter how many newsreels I see. But I see it on his face and it scares me.
Taking a breath to fuel my courage, I pull up something deep inside me that’s been brewing for a while. I knew this day would come when Jeff went away to camp, I just didn’t expect it so soon. So, like the supportive officer’s wife I want to be, I let him go. Without any more drama, without breaking down, I remain strong.
But not before I give him my most precious possession.
His drawing of me.
‘So you don’t forget me, Jeff.’ I press the folded-up drawing into his hand and he flinches. ‘This way I’ll be with you wherever they send you.’
There’s a longing in his dark eyes that tells me everything I want to know, a deep pain he struggles to keep under control that transforms his handsome features into sharp edges. His lips are tight as he says. ‘You don’t know how difficult this is for me, Kate.’
His words reverberate with a longing so deep that just hearing him say them triggers a crazy set of emotions that make me want to plead for him to take me with him. Ride on that train as far as I can go, holding him, loving him with every clickety-clack of the wheels.
When he wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me so close I can’t breathe, my blood heats up and some unforeseen spark in my brain reminds me he’s just as scared of the future as I am. It’s up to me to allay his fears.
With our hearts beating in unison, hands clasped together, foreheads touching, we speak in low whispers to each other. Reaffirming our love, making our peace with the winds of war that tear us apart because we know there is no other choice if the world is ever to be free.
‘I love you, Jelly Girl.’ His low, gravelly voice chills me, his words vibrating in me even as he lifts my hat veil and kisses me warmly. I hug every last moment with him to my heart and button it up to keep his words safe from the fraying embers of time.
‘I love you, too, Jeff. For always.’
With a sudden blast of steam, the great locomotive comes to life, wheels turning, gray smoke pouring out of its belly, and even I can feel the urgency in the air pushing us forward. Jeff gives me one more kiss that stings because I know it’s the last kiss I’ll have from him until he returns.
Then he’s gone.
And my soul goes with him.
I stand there as the train pulls out of the station, watching and waving, until my arm is so tired it turns numb. Long, lonely months without his arms around me, his lips on mine. I tune out everything around me as passengers gather on the platform, waiting for the next train. The choked sobs, passionate farewells, the hurried whispers of soldiers’ promises to their mothers and sweethearts, promises they pray they can keep. The heaviness hanging in the air. In spite of the well-meaning holiday Santa posters and posts entwined with red and green and silver ribbons, nobody says Merry Christmas. It hurts too much, wondering if it will be the last time they say it to their soldier or sailor.
It’s then I realize I have a job to do in this war, too. At the paper mill. Typing government requisitions, checking on the factory production of ration cartons and ammo boxes. Doing whatever I can to bring Jeff and all our boys home. I bite my lip, determined not to cry. He’ll be back. I know he will.
And I’ll be waiting for him.
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About the Author
Jina Bacarr is a US-based historical romance author of over 10 previous books. She has been a screenwriter, journalist and news reporter, but now writes full-time and lives in LA. Jina’s novels have been sold in 9 territories.
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Visit Jina’s website: https://jinabacarr.wordpress.com/
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About Boldwood Books
Boldwood Books is a fiction publishing company seeking out the best stories from around the world.
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First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Boldwood Books Ltd.
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Copyright © Jina Bacarr, 2020
Cover Design by Debbie Clement Design
Cover Photo
graphy: Shutterstock
The moral right of Jina Bacarr to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologise for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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Paperback ISBN 978-1-83889-371-2
Ebook ISBN 978-1-83889-373-6
Kindle ISBN 978-1-83889-372-9
Audio CD ISBN 978-1-83889-368-2
MP3 CD ISBN 978-1-83889-709-3
Digital audio download ISBN 978-1-83889-370-5
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