In Perfect Time

by Sarah Sundin

  “What’s that?” Barkley said. “We can’t hear you.”

  Roger scooted to the edge of his stool and laid aside his drumsticks. He couldn’t clobber a man who outranked him, but he could certainly give him a piece of his mind.

  Georgie peeked around her fiancé, her face flushed. “The bride is willing.”

  “Did you hear that, folks? We’re having a wedding this Saturday. Then two of our little nightingales will be taken. As for our married nightingale, Lt. Mellie MacGilliver—she’s about to receive a surprise too.”

  Was Tom here? Roger craned around to look behind him but didn’t see any sign of the engineer.

  “For three long years, Professor Hiram Blake was imprisoned by the Japanese for no crime other than being an American. For three long years, he lived in barbaric conditions at Santo Tomas in the Philippines. But now he’s free. Now he’s here.”

  “Papa?” Mellie clapped her hands over her mouth and wobbled.

  Kay steadied her friend.

  Behind Roger, a gentleman in his fifties came onto the stage with faltering steps—emaciated.

  “Papa!” Mellie ran to him and embraced him.

  “Isn’t this touching, folks? She hasn’t seen him for over three years, didn’t know if he lived or died for much of that time. So how about it, Lieutenant? Professor? Come to the microphone. These good folks need to hear from you.”

  No, they didn’t. Mellie clung to her father, sobbing, and the poor man could hardly stand. How could they be expected to speak to a crowd?

  “That’s enough.” Roger bolted from his seat and wrapped his arms around Mellie and her father. “Hutch! Georgie! Follow me.”

  He shepherded them to the stage stairs, where Mike stood, jaw dangling. “Mike! Get this gentleman into the tent, give him a chair, a crate, something to sit on.”

  “Will do.” Mike guided them down the stairs.

  As he passed, Hutch clapped his hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Thanks, Coop. We needed some privacy.”

  “No kidding.” Now to face Barkley. He headed back onto stage.

  “Come on, everyone!” Barkley waved his arms around. “Let the nightingales know you want to hear from them again. Give them a big hand.”

  The people obliged, eager for drama.

  Barkley spotted Roger. Although he kept his grin in place, his eyes shot poison arrows.

  Roger marched to the microphone, aware of Kay a few feet to the side, all by herself now. “Ladies and gentlemen, while we’d all love to hear from them, some moments are too sacred for spectacle. These people have been through a great deal. They deserve time to catch up on the past and to plan for the future—in private. Don’t you agree?”

  More applause, but subdued.

  Major Barkley gave a clipped laugh. “There you have it, folks. The protective leadership of Lt. Roger Cooper that saved this group from capture by the Nazis during two long months behind enemy lines. How about some more stories, Lieutenant Cooper? Or another song, Lieutenant Jobson?”

  Roger’s stomach contracted. He would not allow Barkley to use Kay this way. “Ah, who wants a bunch of boring old stories on a day like this? On a day of victory. You want to dance, don’t you? Not some plodding little love song—how about ‘In the Mood’? What do you say?”

  Whistles, cheers, stomps, applause.

  Roger returned to the drum set. “In the Mood” was an instrumental piece, so Kay was off the hook.

  The bandleader raised his baton, the trumpet player tooted the intro, and Roger joined in with the rest of the band.

  Kay headed toward the stairs, passing the drums, and she halted. For the first time since they’d left Texas, she looked Roger in the eyes.

  The power of it almost made him lose rhythm.

  Her gaze combined gratitude and guardedness. She hated what Barkley had done to Georgie and Mellie, and she appreciated what Roger had done. But she still didn’t trust him.

  He gave her a quick “it was nothing” smile and returned his attention to his drums.

  After the song concluded, Barkley dismissed the workers back to their jobs. After all, he reminded them, the war wasn’t over yet.

  The band packed up their instruments, and Roger and Charlie dismantled the drum set.

  Barkley strode over to Roger. “Listen, pal. I’m in charge. Not you.”

  “I know that, sir.”

  “I hope you enjoy the next seven weeks.”

  “Seven weeks?” Roger looked up from his work to the major’s red face.

  A slick smile with narrowed eyes. “The Seventh War Loan Drive. You’re a hit. The Army issued orders for all of you to tour up and down the West Coast. Seven more weeks.”

  Seven more weeks with Kay. Joy and dread swirled in his gut.

  Barkley stepped closer and shoved his finger in Roger’s face. “Remember, I outrank you. I hold the power to discharge you from the Army once the Japanese surrender. No more stunts like you pulled today. Understood?”

  He swallowed past the thick sludge in his throat. “Yes, sir. Understood.”

  53

  Santa Monica, California

  May 12, 1945

  The strangest wedding Kay had ever attended.

  Standing at the front of the church, she wore the green gown she’d purchased in Tulsa, Mellie wore a new gown in a rich gold that made her skin glow, Georgie wore a confection of white, and Hutch, Roger, and Mike wore their olive drab service uniforms.

  The Army Air Force had flown both sets of parents to California, but no other friends or family were present. Hutch barely knew Roger and he’d just met Mike. The Army had filled the church pews with military and industry bigwigs, the lavish wedding and reception a gift of gratitude for their faithful service.

  Mainly, they wanted a crowd for PR pictures.

  Kay fixed her gaze on Georgie and Hutch, side by side, hands entwined. It might be the strangest wedding ever, but it also might be the happiest. Both of them beamed pure joy.

  Georgie was so petite and sociable, and Hutch so tall and quiet. They complemented each other, brought out the best in each other.

  Why wasn’t it the same with Kay and Mike? With him, there was . . . nothing. He was nice. So very nice. And good and kind. But she felt nothing for him other than general appreciation.

  Hutch, for all his quiet ways, carried himself with confident strength. Mike, as if he were waiting for approval.

  Kay sighed and glanced across at Mike. He grinned at her.

  She glanced back to the bride and groom, but her gaze landed on Roger. Always on Roger.

  He looked straight at her, and her breath snagged in her throat. He wore an expression she’d seen a lot recently, an expression she’d never seen before the tour, and she still couldn’t make it out. She wanted to label it regret or longing or sadness, but it wasn’t quite any of those.

  Kay knew what she wanted her expression to communicate—that he didn’t matter to her anymore. Not in a petulant way, just a way that said his rejection hadn’t hurt her one bit.

  A sigh rose inside her, but she stifled it. How on earth could she pretend for another seven weeks?

  Kay leaned across the sink in the church bathroom and reapplied her lipstick. Finally, after three tries, she did a decent job of it. Her hands shook so.

  The emotion of the wedding, rejoicing for Hutch and Georgie while aching from her own heartbreak, and the guilt she felt for thinking of herself on her friend’s special day—it churned up everything inside her.

  If only she could skip the reception, but she’d promised Mike. She leaned her forehead against the cool mirror and closed her eyes.

  She’d been careful to be honest with him, to treat him as a friend, and not to flirt with him, even as she prayed she’d fall in love. But logic didn’t budge her feelings.

  A few hours. Only a few more hours. She could do this.

  Kay smoothed her hair, adjusted a few bobby pins, and headed out.

  Four Army cars sat by the curb in front of
the church. Although the Miramar Hotel was less than a mile from the church, the PR officers insisted the wedding party travel in style.

  Two cars pulled away from the curb. Mellie, her father, and the Taylors climbed into the third car.

  Roger poked his head inside. “That’s all right. I’ll catch the next one.” He shut the door, and the car pulled away.

  Kay paused on the sidewalk, trapped.

  Capt. Don Sellers motioned Roger to the last car, and the pilot slid into the backseat.

  Roger peered out, caught sight of Kay, and blanched. “I—I thought you went with Mike, in the other . . .” He gestured with his thumb in the direction of the hotel.

  No one else from the party remained. She couldn’t possibly ride alone with Roger Cooper. “It’s not far. I’d rather walk.”

  Sellers captured her arm and gave her a steely grin. “No, you don’t, doll. I promised your commanding officer to take good care of you. I insist you ride.” He guided her to the car.

  She glared at him, plunked down in the seat, and snatched her skirt inside.

  The door slammed.

  Kay stared straight ahead, her cheeks heating. As long as they both remained silent, she would survive. Five minutes. It couldn’t take longer than five minutes.

  The car rumbled down the road. Kay wrapped her hands around her purse and stared out the window, but she remained insanely aware of Roger’s solid presence less than two feet away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “If I’d known, I would’ve switched places with someone.”

  “That’s all right.” A perfectly chilled tone, marred only with a slight tremor.

  Silence vibrated in the air, and Kay held her breath. Five minutes. If she counted to three hundred, it would be over.

  “Mike’s looking forward to this evening, to the reception.”

  What? Kay sneaked a glance at him.

  Roger held his service cap in his lap and traced the brass eagle emblem. “You’ll dance with him?”

  Was that a question, a command, or a warning? Something snapped inside her. “Don’t worry. Your friend’s safe. I didn’t line up another five dates for the evening.”

  “Huh?” He raised startled eyes. “I didn’t—that’s not what I meant.”

  “Wasn’t it?” All the emotion churned right into a boil. “You don’t believe I’ve changed.”

  His eyes widened into outright alarm. “That’s not true—I do—I—”

  Kay shook a finger in his face. “Guess what, Roger Cooper? I might not be good enough for you or even for my own parents, but I’m good enough for the Lord and for my friends, and that’s what matters.”

  “Kay . . .” His voice turned low and gravelly. “Why would you say that? I don’t think that way.”

  Now was the time to give him a piece of her mind. Why not? She had nothing to lose. “Why else would you lie to me?”

  “Lie to you? I never lied to you.”

  The fire in her cheeks matched the fire in her chest. “Is that so? I seem to remember you pushing me away because you wanted to be a drummer and live on the road. Remember that? Yet now I find out that all along you really wanted to be a teacher. Last I heard, teachers don’t live on the road.”

  “Man alive.” Roger leaned his head on the seatback and raked his hand through his hair.

  “Sounds like a lie to me. All because you were too cowardly to tell me the real reason . . . the real reason . . .” Her voice choked up on her, and she shook her head to clear it.

  “Kay.” He rolled his head on the seatback to face her, his hair tousled, his eyes liquid brown. “That wasn’t a lie. It was true when I spoke it.”

  “Was it now?” She relished the slice in her voice.

  “Yes, it was. I’ve planned on being a drummer since high school, but I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. I never told anyone, because I thought I wasn’t responsible enough. When I got the audition with the Veerman band, it seemed like a sign that God wanted me to be a drummer.”

  Kay didn’t nod or murmur or give him any confirmation. She’d just watch and see how deep he could dig this hole.

  “But at the audition—” He huffed out a breath. “Well, I saw the Lord was offering me two good paths. I’ve changed this past year, and I’ve learned about myself. Now I know I’m responsible enough to teach, and that’s what I want, that’s what I chose.”

  “You didn’t tell me.” She stitched the words together with an icicle.

  Roger groaned and ran his hand through his hair again. “Believe me, I wanted to. That was the first thing I planned to do when I arrived in Tulsa. But it was too late. You were with Mike. I didn’t want to interfere.”

  “Didn’t want to . . .” Her thoughts ricocheted in her head, refusing to assemble in any order.

  The car came to a stop, and the driver stepped out. The dusty pink Miramar Hotel rose before her, surrounded by lush palm trees and bright flowers.

  Kay snapped her attention back to Roger, to that same expression she’d noted all month, but more pronounced and perfectly clear—regret and longing and sadness.

  He was right about one thing—it was too late. She flung open the car door before the driver could get to it, then leaned back inside to glare at Roger. “You didn’t want to interfere? How gentlemanly of you.”

  She marched down the walkway, skirt swishing around her ankles.

  “Kay, wait!”

  She had no intention of doing so. Mike waited for her at the hotel entrance, and she stretched a smile in place.

  54

  Roger trudged up the walkway past palm trees and flowery bushes that mocked him with their cheer.

  Up ahead, Kay breezed over to her date. “Hi, Mike. I’m so glad to see you,” she said, too loud, too merry.

  Mike’s gaze slipped over Kay’s shoulder to Roger and hardened. Never before had they been angry with each other.

  Roger held up one hand, closed his eyes, and shook his head. It was nothing.

  Mike put his hand on the small of Kay’s back, guided her into the hotel, and shot one last look at Roger. She certainly needed Mike’s protection, because Roger couldn’t seem to stop hurting her.

  He waited on the sidewalk to provide time for them to go in and time for him to collect his thoughts. She thought he’d rejected her because she wasn’t good enough? Why would she think that? He’d never said anything close. He’d told the truth that day, every word.

  Would he have kissed her that way if she weren’t good enough? Would he love her so much if she weren’t good enough?

  Didn’t she know how much he loved her?

  Realization slammed into him, and he sagged back against the pink stucco wall. How could she know? He’d never told her. In fact, he’d worked hard to conceal his feelings.

  He forced his mind to return to that hospital in Naples, to that hallway, to the memory of Kay in his arms, kissing him, murmuring, “I love you so much.” And what had he said in return? He’d told her he shouldn’t have kissed her. He’d pushed her away.

  That’s what she heard. She didn’t hear that he loved her so much he couldn’t bear to ruin her life. She only heard that he didn’t want her, and her history filled in the blanks—she wasn’t good enough, he didn’t think she’d changed.

  Roger pressed his head hard against the wall until stucco prickled his scalp. Nothing could be further from the truth. But now it was too late.

  Nothing he could do about it. He pushed away from the wall, brushed stucco from his hair and uniform, shoved his hat on, and headed inside.

  The doorman informed him that the Hutchinson party was in the Garden Room, and he showed Roger the way.

  In the Garden Room, a stage awaited the band from the bond tour, and groups stood around chatting. Roger stood in the reception line like a good guest, gave Hutch a hearty handshake, kissed Georgie on the cheek, and wished them a lifetime of blessings.

  Then he stood alone in a sea of strangers. The band wouldn’t start playing for a while. What
could he do now other than keep a respectful distance from Kay?

  “Coop?” Mike tapped him on the shoulder. “I need a word with you.”

  Roger sighed at his copilot’s stern voice. Never had that phrase resulted in anything good in his life. “Let’s go in the hallway.” At the last wedding he’d attended, Grant Klein had given him a shiner. Today it was Mike’s turn.

  Down the hallway, out of sight of the wedding guests, Roger turned and braced himself for a fist to the jaw.

  Instead, Mike crossed his arms. “What did you do to Kay?”

  “Nothing.” Roger raised both hands in surrender. “I didn’t do anything. Just clarified something that happened months ago.”

  “She’s upset.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean to upset her, didn’t mean to talk to her at all. I’d never come between you two.”

  “Not intentionally.”

  Down the hallway, sunlight slanted through the doors, fresh from the Pacific. A romantic setting. “I think you’ll find her rather receptive this evening.”

  Mike’s jaw jutted forward. “I don’t want a gal to throw herself at me just because she’s angry with you.”

  Roger squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She won’t do that. Not Kay. But don’t worry, she’ll get over me real quick now that she’s had it out with me. I had my chance with her, and I blew it. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  The silence between them magnified the sounds of laughter on the other side of the wall.

  Mike cleared his throat. “If you had another chance, what would you do?”

  “I don’t have another chance, and I never will.” He fixed his strongest gaze on his friend. “Besides, I’d never cut in on another man’s girl, understand?”

  Mike’s eyebrows drew together. “I know.”

  He clapped his friend on the shoulder and worked up part of a smile. “Well, if you aren’t going to beat me up, let’s go inside and have some cake.”

  “Beat you up?” Mike cracked a grin. “I wish I’d known that was an option.”