by Aubrey Wynne
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Novel Publicity LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original First Street Church Romances remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Novel Publicity LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.
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Love’s Challenge
A First Street Church Romance
Aubrey Wynne
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Also by Aubrey Wynne
More from First Street Church
Dedication
To my in-laws, Glenn and Shirley Hall, you inspired me in my marriage, as a person, and as a daughter. I miss you both every day. Shirley, I pray that I will have the courage to live—and die—as well as you did: with grace, humor, and dignity. Your losses were great, your love strong, and your determination to make the most of life never-ending. I hope this book pays tribute to your lives and loves.
Introduction
The Korean War destroyed their plans, but the battle at home may shatter their hearts…
Laura Beth Walters fell in love with Joe McCall when she was six years old. Now she is counting the days until Joey graduates from college so they can marry and begin their life together. But the Korean War rips their neatly laid plans to shreds. Instead of a college fraternity, Joey joins a platoon. Laura Beth trades a traditional wedding for a quick trip to the courthouse.
They endure the hardships of separation, but the true battle is faced when Joey returns from the war. Their devotion is soon tested beyond endurance. Joe and Laura Beth must find a way to accept the trials thrown in their path and remain steadfast, or lose their faith and each other
Chapter 1
“Men always want to be woman’s first love – women like to be a man’s last romance.”
Oscar Wilde
April 1949
Sweet Grove, Texas
It was the kind of first kiss all girls dreamed of, hoped for, and rarely received. The kind of first kiss a girl saw in the movies or read in romance novels. The kind of first kiss a girl only whispered about because the moment was too precious to share.
A moment Laura Beth Walters had waited for almost ten years. She sighed and leaned her cheek into the hand that still cupped her face, afraid to open her eyes.
Joe put his forehead against hers. “So this is love.”
Her lips still tingled from his touch. Her heart clamored against her chest. She wondered briefly if life would ever be this sweet again. Yes, this was love.
She’d known it since first grade, but Mom said boys were a bit slower in the cleverness department. She peeked through her lashes and looked into his deep chocolate eyes. His lids were half closed, and a sated smile played on his lips, as if he’d just tasted something heavenly. Me, she thought wickedly. The moon threw shadows across his strong jaw and square chin. He was the most handsome boy in Sweet Grove. No, in the entire state of Texas.
“Yes, Mr. McCall, I do believe it’s love.” She ran her fingertips down his cheek, the coarse, dark stubble bristly on her skin. Warmth spiraled through her with the intimate gesture. “What do you think?”
“I think I understand why my mom smiled at me, and my pa thumped me on the shoulder when I left tonight.” Joe moved his hands around her waist, pulling her close. “So your parents will let you go to prom with a senior?”
Laura shrugged, trying for poise but failing miserably when the grin would not leave her face. Daddy had been reluctant to let her date. Her mother had come to the rescue, convincing him that sixteen was old enough to date a boy they trusted. The McCalls lived down the street and owned the local mechanic shop. Joe was a hardworking, polite boy. Their families attended neighborhood barbecues, community, and school functions together.
“I’m practically a senior.”
“And Roger Willard will be practically comatose if he ever buys you another soda at the drugstore. I saw him giving you the eye last week.” He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “I don’t know how I missed you growing up this past year, but I’m crazy about you now.”
Their first date had come about by accident. She had been at Berkley’s Pharmacy with a group of friends in late March. Tuesdays and Saturdays were her favorite days because Joe worked then. He looked so handsome in his white hat and jacket. Almost like a sailor or a doctor.
Laura had ordered a strawberry malt and was waiting for Joe to make it. He’d rubbed her head, still treating her like a child. “Give me minute, kid.”
“I’ll buy that,” Roger said to Joe as he slid onto the stool next to her.
“Nah, I got it for her,” Joe called over his shoulder.
“I said I’ll buy Laura Beth the malt,” Roger had repeated through clenched teeth.
Joe, a scowl on his face, had set the malt on the counter with a thud that made the other girls giggle. “Fine. Like I care who buys it for her.”
But Joe had looked confused as he watched the other boy tip his head and talk to her. He studied Roger, then his childhood friend, and then looked at the boy as if something was definitely off. She knew the second it hit him, recognized the shock on his face.
“You’re sweet on her. Sweet on my little Laura Beth.” He shook his head and then looked at her again, as if for the first time.
“I’m done in here in half an hour. Wait for me,” Joe said, with a narrow look at Roger.
“Sure, Joey. I’ll wait,” she’d said in her sweetest voice, and then continued to talk Roger.
Joe walked her home that day, rubbing his jaw and giving her odd looks as if she were the new girl in town. She swore he was mad at her for some reason. When they reached her house, Laura had paused on the front steps.
“Are you okay?” she’d asked over her shoulder. “You’re acting like an odd duck.”
“Don’t let Roger buy you any more malts.” His voice came out gruff.
“Are you jealous?” A smile curled her lips.
“NO! Of course not, you’re like my little sister.” He pushed his hands in his jean pockets, his chin stuck out and a scowl on his face. “I mean, I’ve been lookin’ out for you since we were kids.”
“Well don’t flip your wig. It was just a question.” But something had changed, and her heart beat with the excitement of it. “See you tomorrow?”
“Nah, I gotta help Pa at the shop. I’ll walk you to school on Monday.” He peered at her from under his bushy brows. “I mean it about Roger, though.”
And he walked away, kicking furiously at any rock in his path. Laura Beth squinted her eyes against the late afternoon sun and wondered if she’d finally been noticed.
The next week, an odd courtship began. Joe had always been popular with the girls so the possessiveness he displayed both thrilled her and created awkwardness between them. At any school activity, Joe appeared at her side. This also made the other boys looked at her differently. They began nodding at her or saying hello in the hall. Laura began dressing with care each morning and checking her image twice before entering the high school.
It took Joe a month to finally kiss her and then just a peck. They had stood on her front door step, the porch
light on, when he bent down without warning and touched his lips to hers. Electricity shot through her. From the wonder in his eyes, Joe must have felt the same.
“I love you, Joe McCall,” she had blurted out then slapped her hand over her mouth. Her skin had turned hot as the Rio Grande in summertime.
Then the door opened, her father towered over them, and the moment was over. Joe had walked away with a wink over his shoulder as Daddy held open the screen door, glowering. After that, they were always in a group or with Joe’s little brother, Leroy. An arm around her at the theater, some handholding while they walked home, or a quick peck goodnight had been the extent of their closeness until tonight. After that, they were always in a group or with Joe’s little brother, Leroy.
Now Laura Beth closed her eyes as his lips covered hers again. Her mother had been right. “A little healthy competition is good for the economy and love. Sometimes a man needs some help takin’ off those blinders.” Well, the blinders were certainly off. And the summer was just beginning.
August 1949
Sweet Grove Stop train station
“Now don’t forget to call as soon as you get settled in. I need to know my boy is all right.” Mrs. McCall pushed a stray lock of hair from her son’s forehead. “Don’t get in with those big city boys. Stay away from the girls with too much make-up and tight skirts.”
“Dixie, the boy’ll be fine. And he’s got a nice little gal waitin’ on him right here in Sweet Water.”
“You know I like Laura Beth, she’s a sweet girl. But boys don’t always marry their high school sweethearts.” She patted Joe’s cheek, her hazel eyes shining. “You just keep your options open.”
“I didn’t look any further than you, and we met my junior year in high school.” He winked at his wife before turning back to Joe. “But your mother’s right about the city. Only trust those who have earned it, and don’t take everything at face value. ”
“Yes, sir. I’ll remember to keep my eyes open and mouth shut.” Joe stuck out his hand, knowing his father was not the sentimental type. People said he was a younger version of his old man. But it had been more important to be like his father than look like him. Max McCall was bigger than life, and men respected him. Though 35, he’d enlisted after FDR announced the bombing of Pearl Harbor, leaving behind his ten-year-old son and wife. He’d come home to a defunct business, but he’d come home a hero.
His father grabbed him in a bear hug. “Sometimes a dang handshake just ain’t enough.”
Joe accepted a rare hug from his father, relieved they had moved past their disagreement over his career choice. McCall Motors was successful, but the thought of his head stuck under the hood of a car forever filled Joe with panic. Journalism, especially field reporting, had been under his skin since he listened to Edward R. Murrow’s broadcasts as a kid. That news reporter was fearless. His commentary had brought the blitz of London into American living rooms. Pa had been fighting in Europe in 1942, and Murrow had been a lifeline of news and hope for the ten year old and his mother. With his no-nonsense, straight from the hip reporting, Joe swore the man had to be from Texas.
He hugged his mother again and saw Laura Beth half-running to the platform. She had dressed up for his departure in a pale blue sundress that matched her eyes and hugged her waist. The skirt flared over her round hips, swaying with each step. Her auburn waves brushed the collar of her short matching jacket that covered slender bare arms. His heart gave a little jump when those baby blues locked with his.
His proper little miss, who forgot all etiquette when she was near him. The past few months had been so sweet. If she could have fit in his suitcase, he might have tried to take her along. They had made grand plans for their future while they strolled the square on Saturday night or picnicked in the apple groves. Mr. Walters had even softened toward him a bit.
The whole thing was still a mystery to him. He’d always had a soft spot for the little girl who gazed at him with adoration. She was a nuisance, but he’d felt protective over her just the same. One day she was the kid down the street, and then —wham!—the next, she’d claimed his heart.
“Joey, I was afraid I’d miss you.” Laura Beth threw her arms around his neck, and he picked her up off the ground, swinging her in a wide circle. “What will I ever do without you until Thanksgiving? Austin seems like it’s on the other side of the world.”
Back on her feet, she noticed his parents behind him and turned an adorable pink. “Mr. and Mrs. McCall, I beg your pardon. I’m just so…so—”
“No need to apologize, darlin’. We understand. He’ll be sorely missed around here.” His father put an arm around Laura’s shoulder and squeezed. “Besides, you’re my savior. If you hadn’t promised to take Joe’s place at Sunday service with my wife, I’d have to go. And those long, boring sermons are made for napping but the darn wooden benches sure aren’t.”
His wife smacked his arm with a gloved hand. “Don’t listen to my heathen of a husband, sugar. I appreciate the company.”
“Leroy! Leroy, get over here and tell your brother goodbye.” Dixie pushed back a strawberry blonde wave behind her ear, waving her youngest son away from the train. “Don’t you try to sneak on there. You’re father will whoop your hide if we have to go to Austin and pick you up.”
The freckled four-year-old came running, his hands stuffing something in his bulging pockets. He saw Laura Beth and jumped at her, his arms slung around her neck.
“Hi bewtiful,” he said, mimicking his big brother.
“Leroy,” his mother admonished, “dump those rocks out right now. You are not bringing any more into the house.”
He shook his head frantically and buried his head in Laura’s neck. His hair, though the same color as his mother’s, was a mass of curls that Dixie refused to cut. Right now, they were plastered to his freckled face.
“They’s pwetty ones, Mama. Some a dem have spawkles like Lawa Bef’s eyes.” He grinned at her now and gave her a kiss on the cheek before wriggling down.
Then he made the same leap at Joe. “Wuv you, Joey. I’ll watch out for Lawa Bef.”
The train whistle blew, and Joe hugged his little brother to him before the boy wriggled and jumped down. Then he looked at the two most important women in his life. He prayed they would become good friends while he was away. His father put out his hand for one last shake, his mother gave him a final hug, and he stole one more kiss from his girl in front of God and anyone who cared to watch.
“Ew, now ya gotta get mawied.”
Chapter 2
“Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.”
Rabindranath Tagore
Mid November 1952
Sweet Grove, Texas
Joe blinked his eyes to hold back the tears. A thorn dug into his palm from the white rose he gripped. He looked past the fresh piles of earth to the blurred line of cars. Smoke trickled from the exhaust pipes as the vehicles idled in the chilly late morning air, sending up a silvery salute. Ma was gone, as inaccessible as those misty wisps ambling their way to heaven. An elbow nudged him gently in the side.
“Go on, son. It’s time.” He nodded at his father’s hoarse words and swallowed the lump in his throat. A soft sniffle sounded behind him, and Joe knew that Leroy stood next to Laura Beth, holding her hand. It wasn’t fair. Leroy was too young to be without his mother. I’m too young to lose my mother, he thought. But she was no longer in pain, her suffering was over.
He held out his hand, waiting for Leroy’s tiny one to fill it. The three McCalls stepped forward in unison and dropped the matching flowers onto the coffin below. The limp, pale petals fell with a soft plop against the polished wood. His mother had faded from the cancer just as those flowers would. Gently, slowly, and with grace. Dixie McCall had shown her true strength during her illness. But he knew leaving behind her children had been harder for her than facing death. Her faith would have carried her through that, but he saw the brightne
ss of pain in her dull eyes each time she looked at her sons.
The small crowd had returned to the shelter of their cars, escaping the gray drizzle that had begun before they left First Church. Joe could feel the moisture seeping into the cracks of his old leather dress shoes. They had belonged to his father, his mother insisting the pair had a few more good years left. She had always been so dang cheerful about penny-pinching. But with the medical bills, it had become a necessity.
Waste not, want not. Her words made him smile until the knot returned to his stomach. We watched you waste away, my sweet mother. And I never want to witness anything like that again. Laura Beth’s comforting voice broke the silence, and Joe looked over his shoulder. Her hand rested in the crook of his father’s elbow, gently leading him away.
“Why don’t we head back, Mr. McCall? It’s time for the luncheon.” She put her other arm around Leroy’s drooped shoulders and squeezed. “I bet you’re hungry, huh?”
The voices faded as they moved across the lawn between the lines of stone markers. Joe needed this day to end, to get lost in Laura Beth’s arms and find comfort in her quiet strength. They had leaned on her hard the past couple of months. Mama had needed so much help at the end, and she’d insisted on leaving this earth in her own home, her own bed, with her loved ones around her. But the constant care had taken a toll on Pa.
Laura Beth had swooped in like a Texan angel—beautiful, compassionate, and tough as a long-horned steer. The two women had grown close over the last three years, and Laura’s dedication to his mother never faltered. “There are some things that a son should never do for his mother. Now go.” She had shooed them out of Mama’s room and closed the door. And later, she made sure to shoo them back in for the conversations, remembrances, and finally for the words of goodbye. They would have been lost without her, especially Leroy. He had worshipped her before, but now his eyes searched for her constantly.
