On Distant Shores

by Sarah Sundin

  “Where are you from, Hutch?” Clint asked.

  Georgie smiled as a wave slurped sand from beneath her feet, glad Hutch could make more friends.

  Rose tugged on Georgie’s arm, a fake smile on her face. “May I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure. Excuse me, everyone.” She followed Rose through the shallow waves and glanced over her shoulder. Hutch said something about the Athletics, and Tom countered about the Pirates. Why did men enjoy arguing about sports?

  “What is going on here?” Rose’s voice hardened.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hutch. You made him sound like a pathetic little thing, afraid of his shadow.”

  “What? I just said he was lonely and unhappy.”

  “You didn’t say one word about him being tall, dark, and handsome.”

  Georgie couldn’t deny that little truth. She shrugged. “He’s engaged and getting married soon, and I have my Ward.”

  Rose glowered over the water toward the pharmacist. “I don’t like this.”

  A long sigh blew through her lips. Rose had a teenage crush on Ward, which only dissolved a few months ago when she fell in love with Clint. She probably still wanted to protect Ward. And Georgie too.

  She patted her friend’s arm. “Don’t worry. You know I’d never hurt Ward. And I trust Hutch. Besides, Mama taught me right. If that man lays even a pinky finger on me, I’ll slap him across the Mediterranean.”

  “You would, wouldn’t you?” Rose’s smile returned. She gathered her dark blonde hair over her shoulder and wrung out seawater. “Let me know if you do, because I want to watch.”

  Hutch’s laughter rolled into her ear, deep and infectious. Thank goodness he’d never give her the chance to slap him. Thank goodness she’d never have to test her resolve to do so.

  10

  “To see Pegasus, you have to picture the great winged horse lying on his back.” Hutch pointed out the constellation for the dozen men and women gathered around his telescope. “Those four stars—that’s his body. Coming out from the lower corner, stretching this way, that’s his neck and head.”

  “I don’t see his wings,” Georgie said.

  Hutch smiled, but she wouldn’t be able to see it in the dark. “For that, you’ll have to use your imagination. You do have an imagination, don’t you?”

  “Funny.”

  “I thought so. You want to hear the story?”

  “Of course. I love Pegasus.” With her accent, she couldn’t sound anything but delighted.

  Hutch had picked the constellation for her horse-loving sake. “Pegasus couldn’t be tamed. Wherever he struck the earth with his hoof, springs of water gushed forth. One day Athena gave Bellerophon a golden bridle, and he sneaked up behind Pegasus and captured him. Bellerophon rode the great horse into battle with the Chimera, which he defeated. But then the hero got too full of himself and tried to ride Pegasus up to Mount Olympus. The horse threw him to earth and continued on alone to Olympus, where he served Zeus.”

  Georgie sighed. “I don’t think anything could be more beautiful than a winged horse, do you, Rose?”

  “Oh! And rainbows! And daisies! And kitty-cats!” Rose’s voice rang with affectionate mockery.

  “You’re such a tomboy.” Georgie giggled.

  Hutch adjusted the eyepiece of his telescope. “Who wants a closer look?”

  Clint stood and helped Rose to her feet. “Later. We’re heading back to the dance floor, if you can call it that.”

  The first chords of “String of Pearls” tickled his ears. If Phyllis were here, he’d dance too. “Have fun.”

  “We want more vino.” A group of men stood and brushed sand from their trousers. “Thanks, Hutch.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Only Georgie remained. Hutch winced. She wouldn’t abandon him, but spending more time alone with her wouldn’t be wise. Even though she’d put her sundress on again. He could still see her sweet figure in her swimsuit, still see her graceful arm draped over her knee as she sat on the beach, still see the sand clinging to the curves of her legs.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to burn his fading image of Phyllis back in place. A year and a half since he’d seen his fiancée.

  “Oh dear,” Georgie said. “I’m sorry they left. I’m sure they’ll come back.”

  “That’s okay.” Now to release her to celebrate with her friends. “You don’t have to—”

  “May I ask you something?” She slid closer. But not too close. “It’s been on the tip of my tongue all evening, but I didn’t want to ask in front of the crowd.”

  “All right. What is it?” One question. Then he’d excuse her. She’d have more fun without him anyway.

  “You know a lot about the constellations. So tell me. Why do people trust in the stars? In astrology? It seems silly to me.”

  He chuckled. “It is. The idea that the position of a ball of fire halfway across the universe determines the course of our lives.”

  “So they’d rather look to the stars than to the God who made them. Why do people do that?”

  “It’s about control. God doesn’t tell us everything we want to know. On purpose. So we learn to lean on him and trust him. People don’t want that. They want quick answers. Astrology gives them that illusion.”

  “And why do you watch the stars?”

  He grinned at the teasing in her voice. “Because they’re beautiful. Because I know God made them. Because the stories are interesting.”

  “All right. You pass. Now may I see what you have in your telescope?”

  So much for excusing her. But he had promised. “It’s set up. The Andromeda Galaxy, right near Pegasus.”

  Georgie peered through. “When I was little, I used to imagine my horse had wings. It certainly felt like he did.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He dug his bare toes into the warm sand. “You don’t have to stick around on my account. I have my telescope, and the moon doesn’t come up for another hour.”

  A soft sigh. “I don’t want to dance. It wouldn’t be right.”

  Hutch gazed to the expanse of the Mediterranean, lit only by pinpricks of reflected starlight. “Me neither.”

  “If you don’t mind my company . . .”

  “Of course not.” What else could he say? “So how long have you and Ward been together?”

  “Forever.” She pulled back from the telescope, her voice perky again. “We were childhood friends, then high school sweethearts. He never officially proposed. We always knew we’d get married.”

  Just what Hutch needed to hear. “Why aren’t you Mrs. . . . ?”

  “Mrs. Manville. You know how it is. I wanted to get married right out of high school, but he wanted to save money to buy his own farm. So I followed Rose to nursing school to pass the time. He still wasn’t ready, so Rose and I joined the Army Nurse Corps. Then the war came, and I was committed for the duration plus six months.”

  He let out a wry chuckle. “I definitely understand that.”

  “Now he has his own farm, and I’m over here.”

  “Mm.”

  She drew her knees to her chest and rearranged her skirt. “I know what you’re thinking. I let other people make my decisions.”

  Hutch leaned back and burrowed his hands into the sand. The sound of the sea added to the music. “What do you think? Are other people your stars?”

  “My stars?”

  “The ancients looked to the stars to tell them what to do. You look to other people.”

  “Oh.” Her voice dove, and she lowered her chin to her knees. “I do, don’t I? I just . . . I don’t trust my own judgment.”

  He pointed up. “You see the North Star? It’s only one degree from true north. It barely moves. But God never moves. He’s always the same.”

  A sad laugh. “I’m like the other stars, going around in circles.”

  “The Lord will help you make decisions, you know. In the book of James, it says if you lack wisdom, ask God, and he’ll give
it to you. ‘But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.’”

  “Unwavering. I want to be like that. I’m tired of being tossed around by the wind.”

  “You can be. I know you can.” Something about advising her made him feel manly again, made his chest feel full and his arms like iron.

  “I’d like to see the North Star closer. Would you please show me?”

  “Sure.” Hutch realigned his telescope to focus on Polaris.

  The band started playing “The Story of a Starry Night.” Too romantic for his taste and for his peace of mind.

  “It’s ready.”

  “Thank you.” When she scooted forward, her bare arm brushed his bare arm. “Sorry.”

  “Sorry.” But the flame of desire licked deep down into his body. He should have put his shirt back on. Most of the other men wore their shirts again, but not him. He didn’t want to flash his enlisted man’s stripes. Pride and desire. Twin vices. He had only himself to blame.

  And Uncle Sam. Over a year and a half since he’d held a soft feminine body and kissed moist willing lips. Was the Army trying to kill him?

  “The North Star barely moves?”

  “That’s right.” He jolted his vision to that unwavering star and his thoughts back to his unwavering God.

  “How about you and Phyllis? You said you met in college. Why aren’t you married?”

  Thank you, Lord. That topic would definitely help. “Bergie introduced us my last year of pharm school. I wanted to work awhile after I graduated, save money, get to know her better. We were supposed to get married Christmas of ’41, but you know the rest of the story. Duration plus six months.”

  “Trapped.” She sighed in commiseration. “Have you seen her since you were drafted?”

  “Yeah. She moved to New York when I was stationed at Fort Dix. She wanted to get married then.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Hutch groaned and leaned back on his hands. A breeze contributed to his cooling-down process. “I didn’t want to rush things. I didn’t want a hurried wedding and honeymoon. I wanted to do things right.”

  “So you stood your ground. Unwavering.”

  He shook his head. “That was one time I should have wavered.”

  “You’re kind of a bulldog, aren’t you?”

  “Suppose so.”

  “I found your constellation.” She pointed to a region near the North Star. “Four stars for his body, short stubby tail. It’s the Bulldog.”

  He chuckled. “That’s the Big Dipper.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Laughter choked her voice. “Yes, the Big Dip.”

  “Hey, now.”

  “See, the Milky Way is his leash. He needs one, you know.”

  He made as if he were going to stand up and walk away. “Fine. Go ahead. Stab me in the back.”

  She convulsed in laughter. “You are so much fun to tease.”

  He grinned. Receiving the teasing was a lot of fun too. “You’re not far off calling it a bulldog. It’s called the Bear, Ursa Major.”

  “Hmm.” Starlight glimmered on her curls. “The Bear. That fits you better than a bulldog. Slow moving, steady, single-minded.”

  “Furry. Hibernates for the winter. Growls when he doesn’t get his way.”

  She giggled. “Do you?”

  Hutch growled, as rough and rumbly as he could.

  Georgie laughed and leaned closer, as if she were going to nudge his shoulder. She stopped short, thank goodness.

  His heartbeat resumed.

  She smoothed her hair. “I’m glad you have Phyllis to soothe you when you’re growly.”

  He frowned. When he got growly, Phyllis got even growlier. They were so much alike. That’s why Bergie introduced them.

  “Oh, look!” Georgie cried. “Mellie and Tom are coming. I can show them Pegasus and the North Star and the Bulldog. Mellie! Tom!”

  “Good.” The word flowed out. He didn’t want to ponder the differences between quiet, serious Phyllis and social, lighthearted Georgie. Or which type of woman was best for him.

  He didn’t think he’d like the answer.

  11

  Termini Airfield, Sicily

  August 26, 1943

  “It’s not fair.” Rose marched, swinging her arms hard.

  “It’s fine.” Georgie pointed in the other direction—toward the airstrip. “Y’all had better get going. Don’t want to miss your flights.”

  “We have half an hour,” Mellie said. “And Rose is right. It isn’t fair for Lambert to ground you.”

  Georgie continued down the dirt road between rows of khaki tents. “I’m not completely grounded. She said I can fly sometimes. Meanwhile, I have an important job.”

  “Screening patients.” Rose harrumphed. “That’s Captain Maxwell’s job.”

  She held her chin high, although Rose told the truth. “I reassure the patients, help them understand what to expect. It’s important.”

  Sparks flew in Mellie’s dark eyes. “Yes, but it isn’t right. We worked hard to earn the right to fly. Now this.”

  Georgie gave her a reassuring smile. How could she say the right to fly meant little to her, when it meant the world to them? “I’m fine. Really, I am. I’m sure it’s temporary.”

  “How can it be temporary?” Dust kicked up behind Mellie’s shoes. “How can you prove yourself as a flight nurse if you can’t serve as a flight nurse?”

  Rose crossed her arms over her pale blue blouse. “Lambert’s gone too far. First the nonsense with Mellie, now—”

  “No, she’s right this time.” Georgie hardened her voice. Behind the airfield a rugged mountain rose, dotted with Sicily’s odd mixture of olive trees and cacti. As odd a mixture as Georgiana Taylor and a combat theater. “A flight nurse needs to keep her head in a crisis. I don’t. And I’ve faced only itty-bitty crises. What would I do in a big one? And a flight nurse needs to think for herself, not ask her tech’s opinion every five minutes.”

  “I know you can do it.” Mellie put her arm around Georgie’s shoulders. “You’re as smart as any of us, you care for the men, and deep inside you’re stronger and more capable than you think.”

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “There’s the ambulance. I’ll see y’all later. Thanks for cheering me up.”

  “Just a minute.” Rose tugged on her arm. “Maxwell’s not there yet. And it’s time.”

  Mellie reached into her musette bag.

  “Time?” Georgie peered over.

  Rose formed a triangle with Mellie and Georgie. “We made something for you. I hope you don’t mind that we raided your fabric scraps.”

  “My fabric scraps?” She frowned at Rose, who hated sewing even a button.

  Rose tucked a wayward blonde lock behind her ear. “Mellie’s great at drawing, especially birds, and I’m okay with needle and thread. You could do a better job yourself but—well, show her.”

  A stuffed bird nested in the palm of Mellie’s hand. “It’s a nightingale. You may not see yourself as a flight nurse, but we do. You’re a true nightingale bringing mercy on wing.”

  Georgie’s eyes watered. “That’s so sweet.”

  “And it represents our friendship.” Mellie stroked the bird’s back. “We made the body from the yellow fabric you used for Rose’s dress, because Rose is the backbone of this group.”

  “She sure is.” Georgie had relied on her since childhood.

  Rose flapped the bird’s turquoise wings. “We used the fabric from Mellie’s sundress for the wings, because of her love of adventure and flight nursing. She lifts us up.”

  “She does.” Georgie gazed at her newest friend through blurry vision.

  Mellie slid one finger away to reveal a pink heart. “That’s from your sundress, because you’re the true heart of this group, of this whole squadron.”

  Her throat too thick for words, Georgie took the little bird and clutched it to her chest.

  “
We know you can do it,” Rose said, and Mellie nodded.

  She dropped her gaze to the gift. Her friends were right about her heart, right about their friendship, but wrong about her becoming a good flight nurse. A true nightingale needed heart and wings and backbone.

  Georgie traced the little pink heart on the bird’s chest. She was nothing but heart. Nothing.

  The ambulance swayed and jostled over the rough road that hugged Sicily’s north coast. Georgie sat as close to the passenger door as possible so she wouldn’t bump Captain Maxwell in the center seat.

  Something about the man made her nervous. For a married man and a father, he spent too much time with the nurses, especially Vera and Alice. Those two certainly didn’t mind, shameless as they were, since the physician was rather handsome.

  Georgie didn’t think too highly of Kay Jobson, but at least the redhead kept her distance from married men.

  She unfolded Ward’s most recent letter, hoping it wouldn’t make her angry the second time she read it. After her first starlit conversation with Hutch soon after arriving in Sicily, she confessed her fears and insecurities to Ward. Seemed only right after spilling her heart to a stranger.

  But Ward’s response . . .

  Dear Georgie,

  Your letter of July 21 alarmed me and confirmed my suspicions. Sweetheart, I appreciate how you try to be brave, but thanks for telling the truth.

  We’ve got to get you home where you belong. Resign immediately. A combat zone is no place for a lady, not even for those hard females who think they can handle it. But my sweet Georgie never belonged over there. When I think of what your beautiful eyes have had to see, it breaks my heart. No woman should have to endure that. No woman should deliberately be put in harm’s way. How can we claim to be a civilized country?

  Besides, you’re needed here on the farm something fierce. Pearline put up curtains for me. It’s nice to have a woman’s touch around the place, but it should be your touch, not hers. She makes a good rhubarb pie, but nowhere near as good as yours. She knows I’m lonely for you, so she keeps me company over supper most evenings. I appreciate her efforts, but I’m still lonely for you.