Anchor in the Storm

by Sarah Sundin

  “Ah, Mr. Vandenberg, you’ve got me pegged.” He sauntered down the passageway.

  Arch chuckled and stepped out to the main deck. If he had Palonsky’s rapport with the men, he could find out anything he wanted.

  He stopped in his tracks. The setting sun spilled orange light over the gray waves.

  What if he could use Palonsky as an intermediary?

  “Use?” He spat out the word. Wasn’t that why he’d rejected the life of wealth? Because he’d used people and discarded them? People who loved him?

  He’d hated the boy he’d become, and he’d vowed never to become a man he would loathe.

  No. Arch wouldn’t use his rank to get his way. He wouldn’t use Palonsky or anyone else ever again.

  He’d have to find another way.

  10

  Boston

  Saturday, February 7, 1942

  “Such a treat.” Quintessa sat by the bay window across from Lillian. “The sailor boys are here when Clifford finally gets to spend the weekend in town. Isn’t it swell?”

  “Yes, swell.” Clifford perched on the arm of the chair and squeezed Quintessa’s shoulders, but his voice sounded stiff.

  “Too bad Dan won’t join us.” Lillian settled back in her armchair and sent Jim a wink.

  “Dan, Dan, Dan.” Squished between Mary and Arch on the couch, Jim laughed and shook his head. “All work, no play.”

  “What are we going to do with him?” Lillian fingered a pleat in her brown-and-gold plaid dress. Their oldest brother’s ship, the cruiser USS Vincennes, had been sent to the Pacific, but Dan had been assigned to an Anti-Submarine Warfare Unit the Navy was establishing in Boston. Dan was not pleased. He wanted to go to sea.

  “So,” Arch said. “What should we do with our day?”

  “I had the best idea.” Quintessa fairly hopped in her seat. “One of the girls at Filene’s told me she’d gone ice-skating at the Public Garden downtown. We could rent skates. Doesn’t that sound fun? I used to love skating on the Vermilion River.”

  Mary tilted her brunette head in Lillian’s direction. “I don’t think skating is a good idea.”

  Lillian shrank back. She hated to be excluded, but she also hated to be singled out.

  “Oh.” Quintessa’s pretty face stretched long in both mortification and disappointment, but then she smiled. “That’s all right. Let’s think of something else.”

  The usual suggestions of movies and walks circled the room, and Lillian groaned inside. If only she could beg out and let them have fun without her, but they’d never allow that. Why did she always have to be the wet blanket?

  “No.” Lillian sat up straight, her jaw firm. “You’re going ice-skating.”

  “Nonsense,” Mary said. “We want to do something together.”

  “Since I came to town, you haven’t even gone dancing, and I know you love dancing. It isn’t fair. I refuse to hold you back.”

  Jim pressed his lips together. “We want you to come too. We want—”

  “I’ll come. I’ll watch. Like watching a movie. In fact, watching you on skates is better than a Hollywood comedy.” She gave her brother a teasing grin.

  It worked. An hour later, Lillian sat on a pier by the pedestrian bridge in her bottle-green coat and matching hat. Frost-covered trees sparkled under a clear sky, and Boston’s cityscape rose on the far side of Boylston and Arlington Streets. Her friends zipped by on the vast frozen lagoon. As enjoyable as a movie.

  Jim and Mary made such a darling couple, skating with linked arms. Arch skated with masculine ease, greeting her when he passed but never lingering. And all the children were adorable in their oversized snowsuits, tottering and slipping and falling. Longing tugged at her heart. She’d only had one winter of skating before her accident, and she’d loved it.

  Clifford and Quintessa stood to the side of the lagoon in conversation, and Clifford looked annoyed. Something about that man made her uneasy. What was it?

  A skater shushed ice in front of her, and she startled.

  Arch grinned down at her. “What are you watching so intently?”

  Her cheeks warmed. How could she admit she was snooping?

  But he’d already followed her line of sight. Clifford motioned over his shoulder with his thumb, and Quintessa planted her hands on her hips and shook her head.

  Arch plunked onto the pier beside Lillian. “I don’t like that fellow.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I don’t like how he pressures her. He wants time alone with her, and she wants to stay with her friends.”

  “You were eavesdropping?”

  Arch shrugged, his eyes impossibly blue in the sunshine. “We’re in public.”

  Clifford took Quintessa’s elbow, but she shook him off, and then he gave her a big smile and spread his hands wide, as if pleading.

  Lillian’s stomach turned. That’s what she didn’t like—the pressure, the controlling. “I don’t either.”

  “Don’t what?” Arch gave her a quizzical look.

  Why did she have to be so bad at conversation? “Clifford. Something about him . . .”

  “Mm-hmm. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “Good.”

  Arch crossed his ankles, the blades of his skates flashing in the sun, and he watched the skaters pass.

  The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but she didn’t want him to feel obligated to keep her company. Nor did she like the idea that he might want to keep her company.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you about . . .” Arch stopped, and a smile spread. “Never mind. I have a better idea.”

  “What? What were you going to ask me?”

  “Another time.” His face grew serious. “But I do have something to ask. Why can’t you skate?”

  Lillian gripped her hands together. “What do you think?”

  “I was thinking. Your foot—pardon me, please—but your foot bends when you walk, as if it were hinged.”

  “It is.” Her shoulder muscles tightened. No one asked about her prosthesis except small children—who were rebuked by their mothers.

  Arch stared at her prosthetic foot, not with morbid curiosity, but like a boy inspecting a gadget. “How does it . . .” He glanced up to her, and his face reddened. “I beg your pardon. I was ogling your leg. How rude. Please forgive me.”

  The incongruity, his expression, the humor of it all swelled into a burst of laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Lillian couldn’t talk. She waved a hand in front of her face. “No one has ever—ever ogled that leg.”

  Arch grinned. “Well, I find it interesting. I was trying to figure out how the foot returns to position after each step, and then it occurred to me how it must look to a passerby. ‘Why, that officer is ogling that lady’s legs. Shame on him.’”

  When her laughter receded, she stretched out her artificial leg. “The ankle is hinged. A spring inside returns the foot to position after each step.”

  “A spring. I should have known. So why doesn’t it work with skates?”

  “It . . . it just doesn’t.”

  “I don’t see why it wouldn’t. No spins or jumps, of course, but gliding should be fine.”

  Lillian studied a skater’s feet. “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

  “Would you like to try?”

  “Goodness, no.”

  Arch tucked his hands in the pockets of his navy blue overcoat. “I thought you were the adventurous sort.”

  “I—I was.” That’s why she had only one leg.

  “What’s the worst that could happen? You could fall. I’ve already fallen twice.”

  Could she do it? She hated falling in public, but here everyone took spills.

  He nudged her with his elbow. “I’ll skate backward in front of you, hold your hands.”

  She glared at him.

  He laughed and inspected the trees behind them. “All right then. I’ll find a stick. You hold one end, and I’ll hold the other. You won
’t have to touch me and catch my diseases.”

  “Oh brother. That’s not necessary. We’re wearing gloves.” She folded her legs beneath her and stood up on the pier. “Come on. I need to rent skates.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Arch glided beside the pier. “Nice gloves, by the way.”

  “Oh, these?” Lillian inspected the russet leather. “Rather pretentious, don’t you think? But they’re warm.”

  “Just for that, I’ll make you rent your own skates.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” But oh dear, what had she gotten herself into? Ice-skating? Holding hands with Arch? Once again, her impulsivity caused trouble. When would she learn?

  After she rented skates, she sat on the pier to put them on. Thank goodness Arch didn’t offer to help. Instead he stood at an angle that shielded her from gawkers.

  Chivalry without flirtation—a strange but potent blend. She concentrated on lacing the boots, not sure what to say. She’d been praying more, trying to open her heart to the Lord, but she had no intention of opening her heart to a man.

  “Lillian? What are you doing?” Jim skated up with Mary.

  Why were there so many grommets? “I’m going skating.”

  “But . . . but what if—”

  “I promised to help,” Arch said. “May I?”

  Lillian tugged the bow tight. “I don’t need my brother’s permiss—”

  “May I?” Arch didn’t break his gaze with his friend.

  Jim’s hazel eyes softened, then he smiled. “When Lillian Avery gets it in her mind to do something, you can’t stop her.”

  “Right.” She stuffed the ends of the laces inside her boot so she wouldn’t trip on them. “If I fall, I’ll get up. Same as you. Ready, Arch?”

  “Ready.” He held out both hands.

  “Come on, Jim.” Mary tugged her boyfriend’s sleeve. “She’ll be fine.”

  He skated away but glanced over his shoulder at Arch. “Take care of her.”

  “I will.” Arch opened and closed his outstretched fingers.

  Lillian hesitated, but after her brave speech, she couldn’t back out now. She grasped Arch’s hands and sucked in a breath at the gentle firmness of his grip.

  “Nice and easy,” he said.

  She set her feet square and pushed to standing, Arch’s strength stiffening her arms. She felt strangely tall, and she laughed and looked into Arch’s eyes, so bright and close. “Oh my.”

  “Slippery, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” Heat rushed into her cheeks. Thank goodness he’d misunderstood her.

  “All right. Let’s get you moving. I’ll skate backward. Keep your feet shoulder’s width apart, toes pointing forward, knees soft.”

  “Knees soft. Okay.”

  Arch checked over his shoulder and glided backward.

  Lillian’s feet slipped, and she squealed and leaned forward at the waist to stop.

  “Don’t fight it.” Arch scooted closer. “Keep your feet underneath and let yourself glide.”

  A ragged breath escaped her lungs. “Don’t fight it.”

  “That’s right.” His voice held such a soothing quality. “Let yourself follow me.”

  When he eased away, she forced herself to stay upright and allow him to pull her along. The ice melted beneath her blades, and she moved forward, gasping in equal parts fear and delight.

  “That’s it.” Arch’s skates moved in and out, tracing hourglasses on the ice. “Soft knees.”

  “Soft. Soft.” She laughed. “I’m skating.”

  “Yes, you are.” Crinkles fanned out from his eyes. “I’ll call you Sonja Henie.”

  “Sonja Henie? Only if she broke down and had to be towed.” But Lillian relished the chilly air on her cheeks. She was moving. She was actually moving. And she wanted more.

  The lagoon stretched about six city blocks, spanning the width of the Public Garden, with the little suspension bridge like a ribbon around its neck. “I want to go under the bridge, and I want to go faster.”

  “All right then.” Arch grinned and picked up speed.

  Lillian stumbled, but she caught herself. “Why didn’t I do this earlier?”

  “You didn’t want to get hurt. I understand.” He glanced back and shifted their course to the right.

  “On the other side of the bridge, I want you to teach me to skate.”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “Jim was right. You are a daredevil. Please remember, I promised him I’d take care of you.”

  “Oh, he’s a fussy old hen. You also promised to help me, and I want to skate like everyone else.”

  “How can I deny a lady’s request?” Arch’s eyes glinted, the color magnified by the navy blue of his cover and coat. Why couldn’t the Navy use a different color for its uniforms?

  She tore her attention away to the bridge, to the stone pillar—straight ahead. “Watch out! The bridge.”

  “What?” He whipped his gaze over his shoulder, which turned him closer to the pillar.

  Lillian squealed.

  Arch’s back slammed into the pillar. She plowed into the wall of his chest. He caught her around the waist, but her feet scrabbled beneath her, and she thumped onto her backside, her back, Arch tumbling beside her.

  “Lillian! Are you all right?” He raised himself on his elbows, his eyes wide.

  She pushed up to sitting and inspected herself, head to wooden toe. “My leg didn’t fall off. That’s all that matters.”

  He got up to his knees. He’d lost his cover, and the disheveled golden waves of his hair shook. Then he laughed, head back, one hand over his belly.

  She never talked openly about her condition, never joked about it, never laughed about it, but now she did, and it felt wonderful.

  Arch put his cover back on, braced one hand against the pillar, and stood. “Come on, Miss Avery. Let’s get you up before your brother comes after me.”

  “All right.” She took Arch’s hands, got up to her knees, planted her right skate on the ice, then pushed herself up. She wobbled and slipped but didn’t fall. “Don’t slow down now. I want to go fast. But watch where you steer the ship, Cap’n.”

  He skated backward with a mischievous grin. “Every captain has a navigator.”

  She laughed. “You’re blaming me?”

  “No, no, no. I’m inviting you to boss me around.”

  “Hmm.” She liked that idea, and she tilted her chin to the right. “That way.”

  “Would you at least say please?”

  “That way, please. A bit farther, please. Then teach me to skate, please.”

  “I never knew good manners could sound so sarcastic.”

  She smiled from the rush of cold air and the warmth of camaraderie. Had she ever felt this comfortable with a man who wasn’t an Avery? Not with Gordon. Never with him. Always a weight on her chest, a sense of imbalance, of unease.

  “Relax.” Arch jiggled her hands. “You’ve already fallen, gotten the worst part over. Are you sure you want to learn to skate?”

  Lillian pushed back the memories. “Yes, I do.”

  “Good.” Arch slowed his motion, tensing his arms to slow her down as well. After they stopped in an open patch of ice, he spun to her side, holding only one hand.

  He gazed across the Public Garden. “We couldn’t ask for a better day for skating.”

  “No, we couldn’t.” The sky spread over them, as blue as Arch’s eyes.

  “Still not used to seeing the State House in mourning.”

  As an air raid precaution, the golden dome of the Massachusetts State House had been painted black after Pearl Harbor. “Do you think we’re in danger of air raids?”

  “Not on this coast. The Germans don’t have aircraft carriers as the Japanese do, and they don’t have long-range bombers. The hysteria is misplaced. We’re focusing on a nonexistent danger while ignoring a real danger.”

  “The U-boats.”

  He nodded, his expression distant and aimed east. “We black out the
dome but refuse to black out our cities. The U-boats sit offshore at night, and the merchant ships are silhouetted against the city lights. Easy pickings. We’ve lost dozens of ships, thousands of tons of cargo. Hundreds of men.” Arch’s hand shivered in hers.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Cold?”

  “Your hand is shaking.”

  Alarm flashed in his eyes, but then he gave her a flat smile. “A sailor never admits to feeling cold. But let’s get moving again, shall we?”

  “By all means.” Men were such a strange lot.

  “Now, I promise I’m not getting fresh, but let me put my arm around your waist, and you put yours around mine. Just until you get the feel of skating.”

  Despite his innocent expression, her throat threatened to close. “I’d rather not.”

  “Very well.” One nod, and he raised their joined hands. “Then hold tight.”

  No pressure? No reasoned arguments? No cajoling?

  “Keep both feet underneath you at first, like before. And watch me.” Arch inched forward. “Put your weight on one foot, then the other. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  Lillian gripped his hand, her forearm braced along his, her other hand free and insecure. “Oh dear.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’m ready.” She shifted her weight to her good leg, wobbled, then put her left leg back on the ice where it belonged.

  “You’re fine. Try the other leg.”

  “But that’s my bad leg.”

  “Bad?” He flipped up a grin. “It’s as solid as oak.”

  She gasped out a laugh. “Arch Vandenberg.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “No.” But she shook her head at his audacity, his delightful audacity. Then she put her weight on her prosthesis and lifted her right leg, set it down, repeated with the right.

  “There you go.” He squeezed her hand. “Keep it up.”

  “My word.” It was clunky, awkward, clumsy, but she was moving, one leg at a time.

  With Arch at her side, encouraging her, supporting her, believing in her.

  More than anything, she wanted to let go and escape. Falling on the ice would be safer than falling in love.

  “There’s Jim.” Arch pointed. “Show him what his baby sister can do. Ahoy, Mr. Avery!”

  Baby sister? Her shoulders relaxed, and she waved at Jim and Mary and skated toward them in her choppy wooden way. As long as Arch saw her as a baby sister, everything would be fine.