Two or three times Barney came on lovely little things that he could send back to his dear girl. A charming bracelet, delicately wrought. A few pictures of the city. Other souvenirs. He wanted to get her a ring as soon as there was time. As soon as he could get back to her and put it on her hand himself. It was too sacred a thing for him to do long distance, he told himself.
But thinking about the matter of a ring brought back the memory of the day when his mother took off her engagement ring. It was getting too tight for her, and she had to work for some time before she could slip it off. He remembered that he had finally gone and helped her.
“I shall likely never wear it again,” she had said with a sigh and the quick flashing of a smile at the end that he knew was put there for him. She was trying those days to leave no sad memories for him. He had had flashes of understanding of this at times, in those days, but he had been so filled with eagerness over his own approaching entrance into the army that he didn’t fully realize. Now, however, it came to him fully, to understand and realize what that scene with the ring had meant to his mother. She was saying good-bye to him forever. That is, so far as this earth was concerned.
Now he felt that he must review it thoroughly and understand everything, come nearer to his mother in knowing what this all had meant to her. She must have known that she would not be there when he came back.
It had been a bright lovely day, almost the first of May, and the birds were singing then, just as they were singing now. As he thought of it, their shrill, sweet voices seemed hopelessly tangled with that look of pain on his mother’s face. That sweet, quiet sacrifice of all that she counted dear because she knew that the cause for which he was going forth to fight was a cause of righteousness and loyalty to his country. Freedom and Right were calling him. It was God’s cause, and God would care for him. That was the way his mother had felt.
And she had taken off that old blue ring, a sapphire it was, an old sapphire, as if she were giving up the self she had been through the years. She had told him about the ring again that day, although he remembered she had often spoken of its history before. She had said it was worth a great deal of money. He wondered if that could possibly be true. Valuable? Why would a simple blue stone be valuable? It wasn’t even a star sapphire, was it? Just a blue stone. A sapphire. Was that a precious stone, or just a semiprecious one? But his mother had always spoken of it as something very unusual. Would she know about such things? Her grandfather had brought it home with him from some far land; he couldn’t remember the story, but it was written down somewhere. His mother had put the story in the box with the ring and told him that he was to get it reset and give it to his bride someday.
He had laughed when she gave it to him and said that he hadn’t any idea of getting married, and it would be a long time before he did if he went to war, before he had time to get acquainted with any girls. She had kissed him as she put the ring box in his hand and told him she hoped he would find the right girl and never give her ring into the keeping of a girl who was not worthy of him. He wondered as he remembered this if possibly his mother hadn’t been thinking of Hortense when she said this. How she had always dreaded Hortense’s coming! He had not then understood that in his sweet, gentle, loving mother—to be so set against one girl that she couldn’t see anything good in her at all. But now, since he had been at home and had seen more of Hortense’s machinations, he could understand. Mother had looked into the girl’s character when she was quite young and seen what she was. Wise, dear Mother! Oh, could Mother see dear Sunny, his precious, lovely Margaret now? Surely if she knew, she was happy over his having found her. He seemed to feel that he had his mother’s blessing on this union he hoped would come about someday—if he lived to come home.
He thought about the blue ring again. Would Margaret like it? He must find out whether she liked it or not before he gave it to her. Or rather could he offer it as a substitute for a diamond, until he could get home and really pick out a stone she liked best? Why hadn’t he done something about that ring before he left home? She could have been wearing it while he was away, a sort of a bond between them until he returned. It was too late to do it now, of course, for the blue ring was in the bank with all his valuable papers. And there was another thing he ought to have done. He should have made a will and left everything to Margaret. That was what should be, of course, and perhaps he could find a lawyer here in Washington and arrange that, having the paper sent to the bank afterward. Yes, he must look after that. He could even arrange that by telephone probably. No, he would have to sign papers, of course. But he just must not forget that. One couldn’t be too careful when one was going into a dangerous zone, and while money, of course, was not greatly important, still he would like to have his go to his dear girl, if anything happened to him.
But if he did get back home soon he must go and get that ring and examine it carefully, have it appraised, and then ask Margaret if she liked it. If she knew the story of its being his mother’s, she would be likely to ask to have it in place of any other ring, for she loved his mother and would be prejudiced in its favor, but he would not speak of what his mother had said until he really found out if she liked it. He would not condemn her to wear something the rest of her days that she perhaps had disliked.
So he planned, and filled his time of waiting with pleasant thoughts.
He had a little snapshot of Margaret that he had begged last Sunday night and kept it in a little leather case in his pocket over his heart. Often he would take it out and look into that sweet face and remember how beautiful she was and how wonderful it was that God had kept such a lovely girl safe for him until he could get home to find her. Surely God would let him come back again to her. Oh, my Father, keep her safely! he prayed in his heart again and again as he went about through those days of waiting before he expected to leave.
And so as he lay down to rest that night before he was to meet the admiral and get some definite answer about his request, he was thinking of Margaret—Sunny as he still called her in his most intimate thoughts—and feeling that she was very near. She was probably kneeling now to pray for him, for they had arranged a trysting hour for prayer, which he meant to keep whenever possible, even if it meant amid battle or danger. So was somewhat dispelled the anxiety he had been feeling about the outcome of the next day.
About a half hour before it was time to go to the admiral’s office, Barney was ready and sat glancing over the morning paper, noting the headlines and what had been happening overnight in the war zones, when he heard footsteps coming along the hall. Could it be the bellboy bringing up another telegram? Oh, he hoped there was not going to be another long delay. Well, if there was to be and he had to go back home, he would at least try to do something about that ring, so that Margaret would have something to help her feel he was hers.
And then the footsteps paused outside his door!
But instead of knocking, a hand took hold of the knob and turned it, the door opened, and there stood Stormy Applegate!
Chapter 23
Barney took a deep breath and passed his hand over his eyes. Was he seeing things? He must have high blood pressure or something. This couldn’t be real. This tall soldier who looked so much like Stormy, only somehow thinner and tired-looking, who stood there in his doorway grinning at him. He couldn’t be Stormy. Why, they didn’t even know for certain that Stormy was alive still, and if he was he must be on the other side of the world!
“Stormy!” he gasped. “My word, man, is it really you? How did you manage to get here? Why—we thought you were lost! We didn’t even know whether you were alive or not. They all said you weren’t, but I wasn’t letting it go at that. I was sure you were alive, and I have been doing my best to get permission to go out and hunt you up.”
“I know,” said Stormy, grinning. “I heard about that, but I beat you to it! I didn’t want you to take all that trouble when I was having to come anyway, you see, so I just caught the next plane after I’d imparted
the information I was sent for, and here I am! Glad to see me, old man?”
“Glad to see you?” said Barney, springing to his feet and grasping Stormy’s hand. “Glad to see you? I’ll say I am! Bless the Lord for bringing you through!”
“Amen!” said Stormy heartily.
And then suddenly Barney felt weak in the knees and as if all the happenings of the last two weeks had got him down.
“Sit down,” he said, grasping Stormy’s arm and pressing him into the big chair by the window. “Tell me all about it. Where have you been, and how did you get here?”
“Well, that’s a pretty big order, Barn,” said the other man, “but I imagine I can sketch out a kind of an outline of my doings if I take the rest of the day. Got plenty of time?”
“Oh,” said Barney, suddenly remembering the admiral and his engagement. “No, I forgot. I’ve got an appointment in two minutes now with the admiral and I’ll have to run. Come with me, won’t you? He’s the one who has been arranging for me to go over after you, and he told me he would give me a definite answer this morning.”
“That’s all right,” Stormy said, grinning and waving Barney off as he tried to draw him to his feet. “I’m the definite answer. I just came from your admiral, and he sent me over to tell you, you needn’t come till five o’clock this afternoon, and we are to have dinner with him at his house tonight; so settle down and relax, and I’ll begin my story.”
“But—did the admiral know all the time that you were coming?”
“Well, no, not all the time. But he knew day before yesterday. He’s been cabling like mad to the outfit, and when they got my first contact, which was as soon as I could get to a telephone in unoccupied territory after the crash—”
“Crash?” asked Barney excitedly. “Were you back in combat?”
“No, I was on my way out of occupied territory, and we had a crash a few miles before we escaped from there. It was just a mere trifle of something like fifty or a hundred miles, and no way to get over the line but to walk and dodge bombs and snipers, but at last I got to a friendly town and found a telephone, and let them know I was alive. I couldn’t give them much information, of course. Too important; but I called my officer and told him the number two question of our list was as he hoped, and that was the most important question I was sent to find out. Then I said I’d get there as soon as I could get transportation, for walking was almost too slow, not while I had valuable information to impart. So they maneuvered a plane after me, and I got there at last and gave my report. Then they told me you were out after me and had been keeping the wires hot in pursuit, so they sent me through a medical exam and then got me a plane over here, so here I am!”
“Praise the Lord!” said Barney, his face shining. “But—tell me about the crash. How did it happen? Where was it? Were you hurt? Was anybody hurt?”
“Not so fast. You know, I’ve been through a nervous shock and I can’t answer everything at once. The crash was pretty bad, and I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but pretty soon I felt it getting pretty hot and I woke to consciousness and found the plane was on fire. Then I got busy. A good many were killed, and only a few of the passengers were able to crawl out. I managed to get out. But it was a long time before I got to anywhere, and I guess some of the men that escaped the fire died before help came. But you know how such things are. You’ve been through enough yourself.”
“Indeed I have.”
“Well, Jim Mayberry wanted to take a plane back to look up the people that were saved in the crash, but he was needed in another direction and went by himself to get some more information. He’s beginning to do some notable things along that line now. Bright kid, he is.”
“Yes,” said Barney. “I thought that when I was there, but he’s a quiet fellow. It wasn’t easy to know him well, but I got to like him a lot. And by the way, I think he has accepted the Lord.”
“He has? That’s wonderful! I hoped he would come to see it. You know, you can’t go around in the face of death continually and not see yourself, and see what the Lord can do, and how much everybody needs Him.”
“That’s right,” said Barney. “I had several quiet talks with Jim while I was still in the hospital. He’s never had much teaching along those lines and has had to think things out for himself, but it seems to me that one meets God out there among flying bombs and learns directly from Him, and perhaps that’s the best way to know God and to see oneself.”
The two young men were silent for a moment, enjoying the quiet agreement of fellowship they were having. Then Barney said, “Did you know Jim’s sister was over here, in Farmdale visiting her aunt? She’s been much interested in you, by the way, been one of our group who were praying that you might be found.”
Stormy looked up with quick interest.
“She has?” he said, greatly stirred. “I met her once in camp before we left this country. I didn’t suppose she’d remember me.”
“She does,” said Barney. “She asked me one day if you were a Christian. She is greatly interested in the subject. She seemed to feel that it would be very terrible if you had died without knowing the Lord. You see, everybody had told her that you were probably killed. Even Jim wrote her that was the general opinion of the outfit. And she was greatly concerned to know if you were saved. Things of the kingdom have become very real to her these days. She has told us that she knows you.”
Stormy was silent, searching the face of his friend. At last he asked slowly, quietly, “You are then interested in her?”
“Me? Interested in Cornelia Mayberry? No, not specially, except that I have tried to tell her more about the Lord in answer to her questions now and then; but our conversation has been mainly about you. It seems that she remembers you very vividly.”
“That’s strange,” said Stormy, “we had scarcely any opportunity to talk together, just a little fun now and then when everybody was by. But I have thought often of her and wished I knew if she had ever found the Lord. She was a most interesting girl.”
“Yes,” said Barney. “She is close to a dear friend of mine, and so I have seen her rather often since I have been at home. But that hasn’t been so long, you know.”
“No, it hasn’t been long as the world counts time, since you and I parted and went our way to meet death, yet here we are and it seems that years must have passed. What has the time brought to you, fella? Changes? I remember they said your mother had died. That will have made it hard for your homecoming.”
“Yes, it has,” said Barney. “But she expected it and wrote me a farewell letter that she left in her desk. It gave me courage to go on. I had time to write her before she went how I had come to know the Lord, and she was so glad of that. She has left me the feeling that she’s just over at the gate of heaven waiting for me till I get done with my work here, and that we must not either of us mourn, because we’re meeting soon.”
“How precious to have a heritage like that!” said Stormy, and then he sighed. “I never really knew my mother at all. She died when I was just a little chap, and my father didn’t live much longer. He was killed in the last war. I was raised by a lot of relatives who didn’t quite understand me and now think I am a fanatic. It doesn’t matter, of course, but it would have been pleasant to have had a mother and a father. Barney, how has it seemed, getting back to real living again? Or is it real living? Sometimes I have thought the real part was over there where we see the stark side of life and everybody is on a level before God.”
“It is, isn’t it!” said Barney. “I think we didn’t understand what life was for before we went into battle.”
“That’s right,” said Stormy. “But how has it seemed, coming back? Have you been happy, fella?”
Then suddenly Barney looked up and his face was illuminated by a great smile, the smile that Sunny called his “golden look.”
“Why, yes, Stormy, I’ve been happy! Very happy! I was coming to that. God has given me a great joy. The love of the most wonderful girl I have
ever known. I never knew there was any earthly joy like that! Of course, we’ve only known this a few days, but I’ve practically known her all my life. She was just a little kid when I went away to college, but now she’s grown into a beautiful woman, as lovely of soul as she is of face; but wait till you see her. Her name is Margaret Roselle, and her mother was one of my mother’s dearest friends. She and I have been praying for you that you might come home. Stormy, I only hope someday you’ll know a love like this.”
Stormy was silent again, but his face had a glorified interest in it.
“I’m glad for you,” he said. “I thought there was something new about you, something that was making you very glad. I thought perhaps at first when you said you had found a girl that it might be Jim’s sister. Jim talked a good deal about her.”
“Well, she’s a very wonderful girl,” said Barney. “Margaret enjoys her a lot. They are awfully good friends. They seem to be most congenial. But wait till we get home and you’ll see.”
“Yes,” said Stormy eagerly, “I’m looking forward to that. I’m looking forward to meeting your girl, too. She’s got to be something very special to satisfy me for you, Barney.”
“She is,” said Barney, with his glorified smile again. “And then,” he added, “you’ll like Cornelia, I’m sure you will. And you’ve got to remember that she’s very much interested in you. In fact, she has a picture of you that she cherishes. It’s a snapshot her brother gave her, I think, but she showed it to me and asked if you had changed any.”
Stormy listened eagerly, thoughtfully.
“Do you know,” he said softly, “I’m interested in her, too. And I have a picture of her. I made Jim give it to me just before I went away that last time. I’ve carried it with me wherever I’ve gone. It’s been a sort of mascot. I don’t know what she would think if she knew I had it, but sometimes I’ve taken it out and looked at it, and it has helped me over hard places. Strange, isn’t it, to take over an almost stranger and let her be a help in loneliness, because one didn’t have any folks of one’s own. But it has really meant a lot to me. Sometime perhaps I’ll know her well enough to apologize for having taken the liberty, but anyway, it’s been good. I hope she won’t be angry with me for presuming—if I ever tell her.”
Time of the Singing of Birds Page 22
