by Sarah Sundin
He checked his watch. At 1800, someone would be home. Had Lillian taken a new job? What was she doing now?
Arch plunked a coin into the phone and dialed the operator. While she made the connection, he gathered his courage and his words.
“Hello?” That was Mary’s voice, and it warmed him.
“Hello, Mary. This is Arch.”
“Arch! I’m so glad you called. How are you? I’ve been praying for you.”
“Thank you. I’m doing well. The doctors plan to fit me with a glass eye, and I’ll be released in three weeks.”
“That’s wonderful news.”
Arch leaned back against the wall by the phone. “Is Lillian there?”
“No, I’m afraid not. She went home to Ohio.”
He frowned. “For a visit or . . . ?”
“We don’t know.” Mary’s voice was soft and sad. “The incident at the store was traumatic for her. Jim and I don’t think she’ll return to Boston. She paid her rent for July, and she promised to let us know by July 1, but we still haven’t heard from her.”
Oh no. She’d retreated. She’d closed herself off from the world.
“Arch? If she calls, would you like me to give her a message?”
“No.” His answer came out too fast. “No, don’t tell her I called. Don’t tell Jim either. I don’t want him to think I’m hunting down his sister.”
Mary sighed. “He misses you, although he’d never admit it.”
“I miss him too, but don’t you dare tell him.”
Mary chuckled. “Men are such strange creatures.”
Arch hated this, hated saying good-bye to people he cared for. “I wish you both all the best.”
“Thank you. And I’ll keep praying for you.”
He settled the receiver on the hook to hang up, then picked it up again and dug in his bathrobe pocket for more coins. Any intelligent operator would be able to connect him to the Avery residence.
What a warm home, cozy and filled with laughter.
A picture filled his mind, and he hung up the phone.
He’d step off the train in Vermilion wearing a civilian suit and his brand-new glass eye. He’d knock on the front door of the Avery home. She’d be shocked to see him.
He had no illusions that she’d take him back. That wasn’t his purpose.
All he wanted was to show her she was worthy of a long journey, worthy of an apology, worthy of love.
She didn’t have to accept any of it, but she needed to know.
47
US Naval Hospital, Brooklyn
Saturday, July 4, 1942
“It’s good of you to visit our boys on the Fourth of July.” The Red Cross volunteer at the hospital front desk smiled at Lillian. “Don’t forget the barbecue on the back lawn at six o’clock. Only two hours from now. Friends and family are invited.”
Lillian managed a smile, but she was neither friend nor family, and she wouldn’t be staying that long.
The volunteer traced her finger down a piece of paper. “Vandenberg . . . Archer Vandenberg . . . Yes, go down this hall to your right, up the stairs, down the hall, second ward on your left.”
“Thank you.” She sorted the directions in her mind and straightened the jacket of her green suit. She could do this. She had to.
“Miss?” The volunteer gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s difficult to see our young men maimed, but we urge our visitors to conceal their shock and control their tears. It’s best for the boys.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lillian headed down the hall. If only the sight of Arch’s injury were her only concern. She, of all people, could handle that.
Instead she dreaded seeing either his hot hatred or the cool condescension he’d shown the night they broke up.
On that night, she’d acted in her own strength, and she’d failed. Today she’d accept her own weakness, admit her sin, and stand in God’s strength, the strength of the truth.
Up the stairs, down the hall, her shoes tapped in beat with Dad’s favorite hymn:
When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In ev’ry high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand.
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.
The ward stretched long. Tall windows brightened the beds on either side of the aisle. Men in pale blue pajamas milled around or lay in bed, and white-clad nurses and pharmacist’s mates took care of their needs.
Lillian made her way down the aisle, searching for Arch, hugging her purse to her stomach, her right wrist bare and forlorn.
A familiar laugh drew her eye. Arch sat on the side of a bed with his back to her, chatting with a man in a wheelchair and two other men on the bed across from him.
Her heart lurched in a bittersweet way at the sound of his voice, the set of his shoulders, and how the bandage around his head made his blond hair stick up.
To her left, a man whistled. “Some lucky dog has a visitor.”
Lillian stopped and hauled in her breath.
Every male on the ward looked her way, and more whistles followed.
Arch stood, his face long. “Lillian.”
Oh why, why, why had she come? He didn’t want to see her, she could tell by the shock on his face. But she’d come to make him feel better, not herself, so she wrangled up something close to a smile.
Arch gave his head a quick shake, waved her over, and turned to his friends. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
“Choosing her over us.” The man in the wheelchair clapped his hand to his chest. “A mortal wound from which I’ll never recover.”
“Enough, Carmichael.” Arch grabbed a chair, set it next to a bed, and looked at Lillian.
She hadn’t moved. She couldn’t. All her speeches had fled.
Arch raised a slight smile. “If you came all the way to New York, you might as well come the last ten yards.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she coaxed her feet down nine of the yards.
He blocked the way to the chair. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too.” She stood painfully close to him, painfully far from him. “How are you?”
“You first.” He sat on the side of the bed in blue pajamas and slippers, a bandage around his head, his right eye as blue as ever. “Jim told me about Mr. Dixon and how you caught the whole gang. That must have been—”
“They’re in jail, and I’m alive. That’s all that matters.” Lillian sat in the chair and rested her purse on her lap. She hadn’t come to discuss the case.
Arch’s mouth worked as if chewing words and rejecting them. “What’s next? You’re in New York—did you take a job here?”
“No.” She twisted the purse strap. “I went home to Ohio for a few weeks, but now I’m back in Boston. Well, not today, but . . .”
“I know what you mean.”
Why couldn’t she ever speak straight? “On Monday I start my new job at Morton’s Drugs.”
“That store you liked.”
“Yes, on Winthrop Square.” The square where Arch had kissed her breath away. She studied her cream-colored purse.
“That’ll be nice.”
Why did she feel his absence from her life more keenly in his presence? “What about you? I’m sorry about your eye and the Navy.”
A grin spread. “Don’t be. It’s the best thing that could have happened. I’m going to work for my father.”
Lillian blinked to clear her vision, but the sight remained—Archer Vandenberg happy about joining the family business.
Arch chuckled and rested his elbows on his knees. “I know it sounds strange, but now I see God’s plan. I was meant to work for Vandenberg Insurance. The Navy was only a stepping stone—a very good one. I served my nation and became my own man, but it was for another purpose. For this.”
That blow to his head must have been harder than t
hey thought. “Are you . . . are you all right?”
“Never been better. Father wants me to set up a new branch in Boston.”
“Boston . . .” Maybe she should have searched harder in Ohio.
“I told him I’d only accept the offer if I could hire wounded servicemen.” Arch gestured around the ward, and his face glowed. “See these men? They have the intelligence and leadership skills to serve in the Navy. But with their scars and handicaps, no one will hire them. Except me. I’ve been recruiting. They get great jobs, and I get some of the brightest men in the nation.”
Now she saw the reason for his joy. “Oh, Arch. That’s brilliant.”
“The men I was talking to when you arrived—they’re working with me. We were making plans.”
“That’s such a great idea.” Her love for him grew. Not only had he come up with an innovative plan that helped others, but he’d embraced a situation he should have hated.
“I may have to receive a high salary—Father won’t budge on that—but he can’t control how I spend it. I’m using the bulk of my income to start a foundation. The Warren Palonsky Foundation.”
“Oh . . .” Everything melted inside her.
Arch looked at his hands between his knees, his cheeks red, and he cleared his throat. “I want to help—” His voice came out strangled, and he cleared his throat again. “I want to help men with combat fatigue. I’m talking to the staff here about what I can do—research into treatment, helping the men after they’re discharged—we’re working on options.”
Lillian’s chest squeezed. That was the most wonderful idea she’d ever heard. “Warren would be proud.”
He met her gaze. “I think he’d be pleased his work wasn’t in vain. The drug ring is broken, the criminals are behind bars, and we’ll help sailors and soldiers with combat fatigue.”
All this conversation felt good and right, as if angry words hadn’t been spoken between them. But they had, and she’d come for a reason, and she had to get on with it.
Lillian sat up straight and drew a deep breath. “You’re probably wondering why I came.”
“I am.” A slight smile.
“I don’t want you to think I came here to throw myself at you. Things are over between us, and that’s for the best. We both know it didn’t work.”
Arch’s face flattened. “I know.”
“I came to apologize—”
“Don’t.” He held up both hands. “No need to apologize. I’m the one—”
“Please listen. I do need to apologize. When we broke up, your friendship with Jim ended too. I feel horrible about that. He was like a brother to you.”
“I’m making new friends.” He motioned to his business partners.
“I’m glad.” She opened her purse and pulled out the jewelry box. “I also came to give this back to you.”
He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “I’d rather not see that again.”
“And I wish I could see it again.”
His one visible eyebrow rose.
Her breath caught. “I love it. I think it’s the most beautiful thing, and it deserves to be worn and loved, despite its history.”
“So why—”
“I kept it for the wrong reason. I told you I’d keep it to remind myself never to trust a man again.”
Arch lowered his head, and the tendons on his clenched hands stood out.
She held out the box to him. “That was wrong. I refuse to go back to who I was. I refuse to shut people out. I want to trust. So I have no other reason to keep the bracelet, not in good conscience.”
“I bought it for you.” His voice was strained. “I want you to have it.”
Lillian stood and placed it on the bed beside him. “I want to give it back for another reason. Because I lied to you.”
Arch frowned up at her, close enough for her to lean over and kiss those lips.
She stepped back and fastened the latch on her purse. “You thought I liked it because it was expensive.”
“I was wrong, and—”
“I was hurt, and I was scared because I thought you were trying to control me, telling me what to wear and how to act and what to eat—like Gordon did.”
Arch’s mouth dropped open.
Lillian slung the purse strap over her shoulder. “I chose to ignore everything I knew about your character, and I chose not to trust you, and I chose to hurt you worse than you’d hurt me. So I lied about only loving you for your money.”
His mouth and his eye closed, and he nodded slowly.
“I gave back the bracelet to show you the truth—it is possible for a woman to look past your wealth and love you for who you are. Someday a wonderful woman will do just that. But I also gave it back to show you another truth—you chose to love the wrong woman, a woman who betrayed your trust, deliberately hurt you, and destroyed what we had. And I’m sorry.”
“Lillian, I—”
“Please don’t.” She glanced toward the door, her eyes hot and prickly and damp. She was going to cry again, but not in front of him. “I didn’t come to rehash the argument, and I didn’t come to beg for a second chance. It’s over, and that’s for the best.”
“For the best.” His voice sounded stiff.
“Good-bye. I wish you well.” Choking back her emotion, she aimed for the exit. As soon as the door shut behind her, a sob escaped.
There. She’d done it. Now he knew the truth, and he could get on with his life.
She wrapped her fingers around the golden anchor at her throat. Somehow the Lord would help her get on with her life too.
48
Arch sat in stunned silence on his bed. What just happened? Lillian had whipped in and out like a summer thunderstorm.
Bob Carmichael wheeled over. “Who was that?”
“The woman I love. But it’s over.”
“She broke up with you . . . here?” His square face contorted into a grimace.
“No, we broke up several weeks ago.”
“So why did she come?”
Why indeed? She certainly hadn’t come to give him a second chance. She’d reminded him repeatedly that it was over. For the best, she’d said.
His hand settled on the leather jewelry box. “She came to give this back.”
“What is it?”
Arch flipped open the lid and cringed at the sight.
Carmichael whistled. “You really do have money, don’t you?”
“I do.” But he hadn’t used it well. That was going to change.
He fingered the gold fittings, as delicate and strong as Lillian Avery. Why had he let something so beautiful become contaminated by suspicion?
For some reason, she’d loved the bracelet despite everything it represented.
The emeralds—they sparkled like her eyes when the light hit just right.
She’d said she really had loved Arch in spite of his wealth. And . . . she didn’t say she no longer loved him.
He stroked the smooth coral, as pink as her cheeks after he’d kissed her.
She’d said he’d loved the wrong woman. Not at all. He couldn’t imagine a woman more right for him.
A woman he still loved. A woman who was walking out of the hospital this very minute.
Arch snatched the bracelet from the box and stood. “Excuse me, Carmichael. I have unfinished business with Miss Avery.”
He charged down the aisle and into the hallway. At the end of the hall, the door to the stairway shut. Arch jogged down the hall as fast as he could in slippers, and he flung open the door. The stairs made an attractive rectangular spiral, and the central space opened to a skylight. “Lillian?”
A feminine gasp directly beneath him.
Stairs presented a challenge without depth perception, so he grabbed the banister and came down a few steps until he could see her on the landing behind him.
He grinned at her startled look and held the bracelet up to his temple. “I need to give this back to you. It doesn’t match my eye. Though I could ask t
hem to make my new eye green.”
The startled look broadened to outright concern. Then she ducked her chin and marched down the stairs. “Tell the doctor to decrease the dose of your pain meds. I told you I don’t want it.”
His smile built in strength, and he followed her. She wouldn’t bristle if she didn’t care. “Now, now, you just said you love it. So I’ll tell you what. When they let me out of here, I’ll take the train down to Key West and buy you the matching earrings and necklace.”
She wheeled around and glared up at him. “I don’t want you to spend money on me. I never did.”
“I know, but I want to. I want to buy you the biggest house, the best yacht, the most glamorous wardrobe, the—”
“Are you making fun of me? What is wrong with you?” Her voice shook in a way he’d never heard before, and she stomped down the stairs.
Second time this week a woman had spoken those words to him. “What’s wrong with me? I’m deeply in love with you. I love you so much I’m willing to sacrifice the modest life I desire.”
“I don’t want to be rich. I never did.”
“I know you don’t, and neither do I. But I trust God to help me even if I become the richest man in the world. And when I trust God, I can trust myself and I can trust you. For richer, for poorer.”
“Please stop.” She opened her purse and pulled out a handkerchief.
The pause allowed him to gain on her, to study her. “You’re crying?”
“Yes.” That syllable rose like a wall.
Arch planned to scale it. “You said you never cry.”
She wiped her eyes and continued on her way. “I didn’t. I started last month, and I can’t seem to stop.”
“Because of me?”
“Not just you. Everything. Now, please let me leave and let me keep my last shred of dignity.”
Arch’s steps descended, but his hopes ascended. If he’d made her cry, she really did care. “I’ll let you leave if that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“But I won’t stop pursuing you.”
Lillian stopped at the door, her hand on the knob, her gaze fixed on Arch.
He went down the last flight. “I’ll be in Boston. I’ll visit you every day and tell you how much I love you until you agree to go out with me or until you convince me you don’t love me anymore.”
