Dreams and Promises: Love, Loss and Redemption in a Land of Infinite Promise

by Anna Markland

  Though he would soon deploy overseas, Albert was in a boot camp in Canada. But Alan had joined up three years ago and was stationed in the United Kingdom. A flyer with the Royal Canadian Air Force, he made her proud. But if she admitted it, her heart longed to have him at home. Willard, her husband, said to hush and keep her thoughts to herself. Their sons were doing their patriotic duty.

  If Will had his way, he’d be with them. But at forty-three years of age, his expertise in farming was needed as much as fighting in one of the services. Last fall, Will and the men of the Okanagan harvested the apples and sent them to Britain after hearing fruit continued to be in short supply as most of it needed to be imported. He enjoyed sharing his tasty crop.

  Of course, he had grumbled when it was suggested he was too old to fight, but she’d sighed with relief. Still, being without her older children hurt. At least her ten-year-old daughter was safe and in school. Nancy might not recognize her brothers when they returned after the war. If they do come home. Mary stopped that thought.

  At the end of the road, she found the morning newspaper in the holder under the mailbox and tucked it under her arm. With a quick yank, she opened the metal box and claimed a utility bill. Hopeful, she peeked into the back of the box and discovered a letter. How long had it been there? She rushed to find out which son had written. To her surprise the name was from a woman she didn’t know. The return address in Great Britain, the message was addressed to her husband. Curiosity burned in her. Even so, Mary didn’t dare open his correspondence.

  Back in the farmhouse, she tossed the envelope on the kitchen counter. It could wait until after dinner. Will had driven to the local secondary school as usual, teaching English until the late afternoon. He and young male volunteers from the school would be in the fields mulching the trees until darned near suppertime.

  The knitting basket, where had she put it? As leader of the Women’s Knitting Society, tardiness wouldn’t be understood. The wicker sewing box sat next to the console radio. She remembered falling asleep listening to a show last night.

  She and the other women knitted mittens and socks for the Royal Canadian Navy. They made a few for her boys too and she hoped they would arrive wherever Alan and Albert were stationed.

  In the bedroom, she changed her clothes, pulling on a beige dress with padded shoulders. Then she stepped into brown leather Oxfords. With a rat placed on the top of her head, she covered it with her hair and held it in place with dark bobby pins. Just the style the actress wore in the last movie she and Will had attended. Satisfied a gust of wind wouldn’t disturb the design, she applied red lipstick, smoothing it with her little finger and wiping her hand with a tissue. Ready to go. Her arms would ache by the end of the afternoon, but she’d be contributing to the war effort. She smiled.

  After dinner, she and her daughter washed the dishes and made lunch for the morning. Later, while Nancy read her school books, she glanced at the newspaper checking the obituaries for any familiar names, thankful her sons were not among them. When their daughter was in bed, Mary retrieved the letter.

  “Will, this came in the post today. Addressed to you.”

  “From the boys?”

  “No. Never heard the name. Maybe you’ll recognize it.”

  “I don’t recall.” He turned it over and checked the back of the envelope. “Nope.”

  “You going to read it?”

  “What’s your hurry? Probably a mistake. Our neighbour, Mr. McLaren writes to family in the UK. Maybe it should have gone to him.”

  “Honey, your name is on the envelope.”

  “Well, then.”

  He got up from the table where he was having his tea and went to a jacket hanging on a hook on the back of the kitchen door and pulled his reading glasses from the pocket.

  She wanted to tell him to hurry, but didn’t. He wouldn’t understand she’d struggled to wait through the day to discover the secret in the post.

  “Well, I’ll be, can’t imagine how they got my name.’’

  He read out loud.

  “Dear Mr. Barlow.

  I am a teacher in the UK. My class wanted me to inform you that we received apples from you and the people of the Okanagan. Thank you. We hadn’t seen apples since the war started. You can imagine the delight the children felt when they understood each would take two home with them.

  Many other schools received your fruit as well. I have been asked to tell you how much it means, knowing someone thousands of miles away cared enough to share their bounty with strangers. Please tell everyone involved how thankful we were to receive your generous gift. We will keep you in our prayers.

  Most sincerely,

  Mrs. Randall”

  “I’ll be…” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Kind of her to send this note.”

  He sat silent for a moment. “Where do think our boys are now?”

  “Don’t know.” Mary hesitated. “I just pray they’re safe.”

  ~~*~~

  In London, the bus was due to arrive any moment. While she and Alan waited, Harriet enjoyed the fresh air after a night in the underground. Arriving on schedule, the bus was almost full. Even so, they found seats together.

  Conversation came easily and she began to think of him as a friend, though they had only known each other for a short time.

  At the Victoria and Albert Museum, they walked by the sandbags stacked to protect the building from further damage as it had been bombed earlier. The hours passed rapidly while they toured the exhibitions. Art never interested her much. Still, hearing Alan’s stories about Canada’s always changing sky and the wide-open panoramas helped her enjoy the watercolours through his eyes. Alan’s love for country was contagious and she wondered if she might enjoy visiting someday.

  Over fish and chips, eaten while sitting on a park bench, she shared her tales of living with eleven brothers and sisters in a small cottage. They laughed over the antics of her little brother who had a knack for finding mud and bringing it into the home.

  “Canada has no shortage of mud.” He laughed. “We might be the capital of the stuff.”

  She giggled and again mentioned her dream of owning a large house where everyone had their own room. Perhaps she’d have a dog too someday, a Border Collie. She’d never voiced her daydreams to anyone, not even her mum. What was it about Alan that caused her to open her heart to him?

  Later that evening when they left the theatre, the night turned cold and fog filled the streets. A good sign as the Luftwaffe didn’t fly in heavy fog; the night would be free of air raids. “I never used to like the mist that often covers London. Not until I learned the bombers don’t go up in pea soup.” She buttoned her coat and unfolded a pink flowered scarf from her pocket. A Christmas present from her parents, she placed it on her head and tied a knot under her chin.

  “Thank your friend for the tickets. I can’t remember when I’ve laughed so hard.” She slid her arm into the crook of his elbow.

  “I can’t recall being in nicer company.” He patted her hand. “Where to now?”

  Pleased he didn’t want to leave her yet, she said, “If we hurry we can reach my neighbourhood pub before last orders.”

  They ran to the bus stop just in time to jump on the vehicle before it left.

  Laughing, she took a seat by the window and he joined her. “Luck is with us tonight.”

  An odd expression crossed his face. He held her hand and an electrical charge shot through her. “You might be my lucky star, Harriet.”

  She smiled weakly unsure what he meant. He let go of her and she shivered without his warmth.

  The pub, with light wooden walls and patterned carpet, was open and a few locals populated the place. The smell of beer and chips filled the room and so did the sounds of muffled conversations. Two older men played darts, laughing and debating who won the last go around. A middle-aged couple, dressed in their best finery, sat eating at a table by the blackout draped window.

  She and Alan found
seats at the corner table. “Beer?” he asked.

  She didn’t usually drink. However, she agreed. He returned carrying two pints and she took a sip. “Hmm.” She wiped her lips with her tongue. “I don’t remember it tasting so good.” Must be the company. “I’m sorry we ran out time today before we shopped for gifts for your family.”

  “We could do it tomorrow and there’s a dance hall at the Flyer’s Club too. Do you like dancing? They have a swing band and a singer.”

  “Sounds like fun. I haven’t been to one since I started nursing school.”

  “Okay, good.”

  She took a gulp of beer. Could she coax Peggy into taking her shift at work? They often traded days off, but this was short notice.

  Alan slid closer and put his arms around her shoulders. “When I came to town, I planned on seeing my buddy and then maybe going for a little R&R at the canteen and back to the base as I didn’t know anyone else.”

  “R&R?”

  “It’s a Yank term, means rest and relaxation. Fun if you have someone to do it with. I thought my buddy and I were going to take it easy and then see the town.” He took a gulp of beer and swallowed. “I’m sorry for his accident, but if he’d watched where he was going that night, I’d never have met you. His bad luck. My good luck.” He shrugged “Fate is an odd phenomenon.”

  “You’re quiet the philosopher, aren’t you, Alan?”

  “I can’t deny it, but a handsome sort wouldn’t you say?” He grinned.

  “Get you.” She laughed and leaned closer to him.

  “Better drink up. We close in five minutes.” The bartender shouted louder than necessary.

  With reluctance, she moved away from Alan.

  Outside of the pub, the fog lingered, making eerie shadows. Yet her mood couldn’t be dampened. She hummed and danced to an imaginary swing tune. A bemused expression spread across his face. She was having fun, but probably making a fool of herself.

  He’d been right about one thing. Fate was a wonder. She met him and now they were going to the dance hall and she felt lighthearted for the first time since coming to London. She held her arms out to him and he filled them. They waltzed down the street together. Moving as if he knew the song she had in her mind, he kept perfect rhythm to the beat.

  Her head spun when they reach the flat. “I’m not used to beer,” she said, suddenly nervous.

  “Don’t worry. You’re charming when you’re a bit tipsy.”

  “Is that what I am?” She held her fingertips to her mouth and then touched his lips with them. “Night, see you tomorrow.”

  She shut the door before he could kiss her, no matter how much she wanted him to. It was the first date after all.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Harriet shook her friend. “Peggy, wake up!”

  “What is it?” The woman sat upright in bed. “Are we going to be bombed?”

  “No. Everything is all right. More that okay. It’s wonderful.”

  “Why did you wake me in the middle of the night to tell me this?” Her friend yawned and stretched. “What time is it?”

  “I don’t know, but I need a favor.” She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her shoes. She sighed.

  “Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “No. I’m sorry.”

  “All right, what’s the problem?” Peggy yawned again. “You might as well turn on a lamp if we are going to talk. The blackout drapes are already pulled.” She propped her pillow and leaned back as if she thought it might be a long discussion.

  Harriet turned on a bedside light, removed her coat and sat on her own bed facing her friend. How could she tell her story in a way that would encourage Peggy to give up her days off? “You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t ask you if there was another choice.” She hesitated. “I’m falling for Alan.” She held up her hand before her friend contradicted her. “Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

  “Harriet, I’m too old and practical. I’m twenty-one and have been around the block a few times.”

  “Well, I believe it. In these scary days, we take love where we can.”

  “Harriet! You haven’t done anything foolish?”

  “No. I didn’t even kiss him.” She touched her lips remembering how much she wanted to. “He has a pass for two more days and he’s asked me out. Tomorrow I’m scheduled to work the day shift.” She hesitated and paced the small bedroom.

  “Well, Harriet, what do you want?”

  “I need you to work for me for a couple of days.”

  “But I have two days in a row off. How often does that happen?”

  “Not frequently. I apologize, but Alan’s a flyer. He might be shot down or be transferred and I’d never see him again. I’ll pay you back.”

  “This isn’t like you. You never date.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t want to get involved especially with the North Americans. I don’t grasp why, but he’s different.”

  “And you wouldn’t be happy with one day?”

  Harriet hung her head and waited.

  “All right, but you owe me.” Peggy groaned.

  “Thank you. I’ll never forget this. I’ll give you a week, a month, whatever you want.”

  “Don’t overpromise. I might take you up on it.” She laughed. “Now turn off the light and go to bed. I have to work tomorrow.”

  She hugged Peggy and turned off the light.

  ~~*~~

  The next day Hattie and Alan searched the shops. They found flowered scarves for his mother and sister and a plaid scarf for his father. “Nice and easy to ship,” Alan proclaimed.

  She found a pocket-sized note pad with a pencil held in a cloth bag. “You can carry it with you and draw if there’s time.”

  “Thanks. I’ll give you my first sketch.”

  Alan paused for a moment. “I bought something for you too. Silver bangles for your ears.”

  “They’re beautiful, but I can’t take them. We just met.” She handed them back to him and hoped he wouldn’t be angry.

  “I will keep them until we know each other better.”

  The day rushed by. What was the saying about time when you were having fun?

  It rained and they ran into a little tearoom for biscuits and tea. From the window, she watched people passing and guessed their names. She laughed easily. Their chats were without the usual dead spots where she begged her mind to come up with a topic and wished she’d stayed at home.

  They took in a matinee movie of The Canterville Ghost, a comedy with Charles Laughton. Then they ate the sandwiches she’d packed.

  Later that night, the band was in full swing when they arrived at the dance hall. The sets were long and she and Alan were on the floor until her feet hurt. They sat through a couple of jazz numbers, but he insisted they get up for a waltz.

  Fine by her, she’d been hoping for a slow song. Her mother had told her to keep a gentleman at arm’s length when waltzing. By the end of the night while they danced, she gave in to her wish to be closer and rested her head on his chest.

  “Remember we have all day tomorrow. Think of what you want to do,” he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver of longing through her.

  “The band played, Good Night Ladies and the dance floor filled with patrons.

  They caught the last bus of the night to her neighbourhood, then walked to the front door of her flat. He kissed her. The gentle a wisp of his lips tantalized her. Before she could call his name, he covered her lips, deepening the contact.

  “Hattie, I’ve been waiting to do that all night.” He bent toward her.

  “Sorry to bother you two.” Peggy peeked out of the front door. “There’s been an emergency at the hospital. All staff is recalled. No days off for a while, I’m afraid.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Still in Alan’s arms, she held on to him. “I don’t want to work tomorrow. I had such brilliant plans for us.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I’m disappointed too. Orders are orders. That’s wha
t they say in the service. We can write. I’ll send you a drawing” He stepped away. “I can’t say when I’ll have more time off. Things are intensifying. I’m not allowed to say more.” He stared at her as if memorizing had face. “Harriet, it’s been a joy meeting you.”

  He was gone before she could respond.

  ~~*~~

  In the next week, the weather improved and bombing raids increased, filling the hospital with the wounded. Patients lined the hallways, laying on gurneys.

  Harriet worked double shifts, snatching naps on cots in the breakroom when time allowed.

  She wouldn’t be able stay at home for the night. But certain Alan would write, she made the trip home to check the post every day.

  Peggy had warned her not to become too involved with him. Flyboys took pleasure where they found it and flew to the next bird.

  Alan is different.

  She suppressed her disappointment when nothing appeared in the post. How could she be so wrong about him?

  Mum had told her that after the war things might settle back to normal. There’d be time to find someone. She’d told her to take it slow and easy. “Harriet, you’re young. Enjoy your freedom. Beware of making a decision too early that will lead to a life sentence with a person you don’t know. You’ll repent at leisure.”

  All the same, she wanted Alan.

  Day after day no mail came from him. She began to expect nothing and yet she looked. Her cheery and bright letters to him now seemed foolish. How naive she must appear. Her face heated as embarrassment crawled up her back. She’d poured out her heart to Alan. Dear God, she was stupid.

  Enough.

  This was the last day she’d bother rushing home while praying for a note from a man who didn’t care. Instead of being pleased with her decision, she groaned.

  A few days later, exhausted, she returned to her flat. Out of her shoes, she wiggled her toes in the soft carpet under her feet, hung her coat in the closet, and looked forward to a peaceful night in her own bed. There’d be no moving from her room until the daylight hours returned. She passed the kitchen and considered eating something. Sleep trumped food and she flopped on her bed and pulled up the covers.