As the news ended, promising listeners frequent bulletins and updates, the station began Benny Goodman’s “There’ll Be Some Changes Made.”
Roy switched down the volume on the radio in disgust. His new cast itched, but not as much as he itched to rip it off and hop on the first plane back to Hawaii. All his antsy movement had caused a big wrinkle to form on his bottom sheet. He didn’t want to bother the nurse, so he yanked at the sheet and let out a moan of relief. Bed. He hated it. This was the last day, too. After the cast dried, he’d be able to use crutches … and not a minute too soon.
He turned his head as footsteps clicked smartly down the hall. The tall honey blond in the doorway caught his eye immediately. It felt like years since he’d seen a woman wearing something other than a nurse’s uniform. A leaf-green wool coat parted as she moved, revealing a beige sweater and brown skirt. The skirt flirted around the top of her calves, drawing his gaze toward trim ankles. She was a sight for sore eyes and well worth notice, but one of the men in the ward let loose a low, appreciative whistle.
“Show some respect,” Roy growled and glared at the man before turning his attention back to the vision as she stepped into the room. She waited for an older woman and man to follow her. Not timid. Bright enough to have backup before she gets in too deep. She shot a questioning glance at the older man, who nodded in Roy’s direction.
The man seemed strangely familiar … yes, more gray hairs, but that was definitely …
“Paul Kincaid.” Roy broke out in a grin at the sight of his father’s old friend. Paul used to bring him letters and news when he dropped by the boarding school.
“Roy.” Paul strode over to his bed and clasped his hand in a warm greeting before frowning at the fresh plaster on his leg. “I just learned you were here yesterday, or I’d have dropped by sooner. Just get out of traction?”
“I got casted today.”
Valerie followed Paul’s lead toward the bed in the far corner, where a young man with an enormous cast sat listening to the radio. She listened quickly to make sure it wasn’t a news update and caught the opening strains of Horace Heidt’s “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire.”
Too late for that. This will be a world war, and none of us will escape unscathed. She pushed aside memories of Frank and smiled as Paul introduced her to Roy Benson. “This is my new bride, Rosemary, and her daughter, Miss Valerie Fulton.”
His intense hazel gaze and full beard gave him an air of mystery, and the disreputably long, light brown lock of hair on his forehead lent a boyish charm that made her heart skip a beat. Despite the cast covering his left leg from foot to thigh, he struck her as a man of action, chafing at enforced inactivity. The smile that lit Roy’s face couldn’t completely mask his restlessness.
“I’m glad to meet you.” Valerie dipped her head in acknowledgment.
“The pleasure’s all mine. Paul, you’re a lucky man.” As the injured soldier gallantly kissed the back of her mother’s hand, Valerie couldn’t suppress a grin. Anyone who made her mother giggle was all right in her book.
“Would you like a stick of gum?” She fished a package of Black Jack gum from the pocket of her coat and held it out.
“Thanks.”
Before she tucked the remainder of the pack into her purse, she noticed that the gum wrapper matched the teal walls almost perfectly.
“That’s right.” Amusement colored Mr. Benson’s voice as he caught her glancing from the gum to the walls. “You’d better not drop that pack.”
“I’d never find it, would I?” She chuckled and stashed it in her handbag. When Roy’s smile reached his eyes, he seemed younger.
“Well,” Paul began, “we didn’t just come for a social visit. My new family and I would like to have you stay with us for the holidays. What do you say?”
Chapter 2
Mr. Benson hesitated, looking at their faces with a measured gaze. Valerie gave a slight nod to encourage him. She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted him to feel comfortable coming to their home. He seemed so independent, she almost wanted to make sure he knew other people cared. Maybe it was because Paul had mentioned Roy had grown up in boarding schools. The thought of anyone being away from family for so long left her wanting to make up for the loneliness he must have experienced.
“Please say you’ll come, Mr. Benson,” Rosemary entreated.
He cast one last glance at the turquoise walls and took a deep breath. “I’d be honored.”
“Good. We’ll come by later this afternoon when your cast is set.” Paul rubbed his hands together. “Dr. Reeves already gave his permission, since we promised to make sure you rested up.”
Valerie didn’t miss Mr. Benson’s grimace at that last part. It seemed as though their new houseguest had had enough rest. Well, if he thought their home would be more fast-paced than the hospital, just wait until he spent a week sewing!
Roy rubbed his jaw and appreciated the brisk December breeze on the back of his neck. Paul had stopped at a barbershop on the way home and made sure Roy got a long-overdue haircut and shave. He didn’t look like a bum now. What would pretty Miss Fulton think of his transformation?
Expecting wallpaper embellished with florid pink roses and lacy curtains blocking the window, Roy followed Paul through the house to the downstairs guest bedroom. Even if the room looked like a powder puff, it would be a welcome change. A room to himself was a luxury he’d hardly ever known. He’d shared quarters with other boys in boarding school, then during the first years of his service in the navy. Even the hospital ward packed several men along the long walls.
Now he’d have peace and quiet—time to think about what he would do with himself once he got out of this cast. The doctors told him he’d never fully recover. Cold weather would make his leg ache, and he’d always have a slight limp.
I won’t be fit for active duty. Other men are marching off to protect their country, and I can’t go with them. Ever. The sooner he could get back to breaking the JN-25, the better. If I can’t offer my life, my mind will have to do.
He maneuvered his crutches through the doorway and surveyed his new home. Decorated in blue and white with sturdy walnut furniture, the room contained nothing that could be called purely feminine—except her.
Valerie Fulton looked up from the small vase of flowers she’d obviously just placed on the bedside table. She offered a welcoming smile and quickly stepped away from the bed.
The faint blush coloring her cheeks made her even lovelier than he recalled from this morning. Honey-colored curls brushed her shoulders, and now he knew her eyes sparkled a deep emerald green.
Paul didn’t notice the awkward moment. “That’s nice of you, Valerie.”
“Thank you,” Roy added quickly.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Benson.” She came closer. “Why, you hardly seem the same person!”
“Is that good or bad?” He liked how easily she met his gaze. She stood at the perfect height. He didn’t have to bend his head, and she didn’t need to crane her neck to have a conversation.
“I don’t think it would matter how you wore your hair, Mr. Benson, though this suits you well. It’s more important that you seem so much happier. I suppose you’re just glad to be moving around a bit?”
“Exactly.” He grinned. Not every woman would have realized the true change—Miss Fulton looked to the core of a man and understood what she saw.
“Well, Mom asked me to tell you both that dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Something sure smelled good when we walked in. Nothing like good home cooking, eh, Roy?”
I wouldn’t know. “I’m looking forward to it.” Roy moved back as she moved toward the door.
“Well.” Once she reached the hallway, she regained some of the energy he’d seen in her earlier. “We aren’t having green gelatin!”
Roy watched as she whisked around the corner and heard her little heels clicking smartly on the kitchen linoleum as she joined her mother. Belatedl
y realizing he’d gazed after her like a fool, he snapped his attention back to Paul, only to find the older man giving him a knowing look.
“She’s single. Not seeing anyone, either.”
Roy scrutinized a painting of an old ship. Its sails swelled in the wind, and Roy could practically smell the salt in the air. I may not be back on a ship for some time, but there are definite advantages to staying here for a while. Still, it does no good to foster expectations.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You know that sometimes a man doesn’t have to use the words to ask a question like that.” Paul cheerfully ignored Roy’s casual dismissal. “But she just lost her fiancé a year ago, so be careful.”
“What happened?” Roy gave in to his curiosity. No man with a lick of sense would leave a woman like her.
“Frank signed up with the Canadian Air Force and was shot down over Germany. Valerie had a rough time accepting the loss.” Paul’s expression became serious, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “If you hurt her in any way, you’ll answer to me.”
“You sound just like we’re back in Switzerland when the headmaster told you I’d hidden a puppy in my closet.”
“Some things never change.”
“And others do.” Roy gestured to his cast. “I’m not in any condition to pursue your stepdaughter, so rest easy.” Besides, now that I’m lame, I can’t be the brave young soldier she’d want.
The older man raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right. But you’ve been warned. Now let’s go get some food!”
“This is excellent,” Mr. Benson complimented before loading his fork again.
“Thank you, Mr. Benson.” Rosemary, ever the gracious hostess, refilled his iced tea.
“I helped!” Valerie smiled at her new sister’s pronouncement. Rebekkah clapped her hand to her heart and explained, “I washed the ’tatoes!”
“Well, I’ll bet that’s why these are the best baked potatoes I’ve ever had in my life.”
His compliment made Rebekkah positively beam. Their houseguest’s personable charm and easy good looks made him a welcome addition to the table. Surely Paul appreciated some masculine company in the house as well.
“What’s running through that mind of yours, Valerie Jane Fulton?”
“Nothing special, Mom. Why do you ask?”
“Even I know that satisfied little grin,” Paul teased. “It means you’re up to something.”
“Honestly, I was just thinking how glad you must be to have another man around the house. You’ve been pretty outnumbered for a while.” Valerie loved teasing her stepfather because he always played along without taking any offense.
“I manage to hold my own!” he protested.
“Of course you do, sweetheart.” Rosemary’s reassuring pat drove the point home, and Mr. Benson chuckled.
“I think Miss Fulton’s got you there, Paul!”
“Traitor!” Paul shook his head. “I’d expected better from you, Roy. You’re no help at all.”
“Sorry.” Mr. Benson’s hazel eyes sparkled for a moment as he reached for the green beans.
That’s the first time his smile has reached his eyes, Valerie realized. I know these are hard times we live in, but if we forget the good, we do a disservice to those fighting to protect it! I want to see that smile more often.
Her sister’s yawn caught her attention and reminded her that the time was getting late for the little tyke. “Come on, Bekkah.” Valerie scooted her seat out and lifted the three-year-old to the floor. “Let’s go get the Advent calendar.”
Rebekkah clasped Valerie’s hand and toddled over to the living room, where she carefully picked up the colorful cardboard before scampering back.
“Here, Momma!” She raised on tiptoes to hand it over.
Rosemary scooped Rebekkah in her arms and laid the calendar, with seven little peekaboo doors open, on the table.
“See the pretty angel, Rebekkah? Up here,” she said, tapping the corner, “is an eight. That’s today.”
“Why is it an angel, Momma?” Rebekkah traced the angel’s wings.
“Do you remember what we already learned about Mary? This is when an angel came to talk to her husband, Joseph. Let’s read what the angel says.”
Rebekkah carefully pried open the tiny door, and Valerie read aloud: “ ‘And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name Jesus: for he shall save his people from their sins.’ ”
“Jesus born on Christmas!”
“That’s right, darling.”
“Why did the angel come to tell him that, though?”
“Rebekkah, do you remember that Jesus is God’s Son?” Rosemary waited until Rebekkah finished bobbing her head. “The angel is telling Joseph that it’s all right to be Jesus’ father here on earth.”
“Oh!” Rebekkah’s eyes shone brightly as she crawled down from her mother’s lap and tugged on Paul’s pant leg. “Like God told you to be my papa.”
Valerie blinked back tears as Paul scooped up the little girl and bounced her on his knee. “That’s exactly right, sweetie.” He smiled tenderly. “I think it’s time to get you ready for bed. We’ll hear more of the story tomorrow night.”
“Yes, Papa.” She willingly went into Valerie’s arms but stretched out her chubby little arms for a few last hugs and kisses.
“Ni-night, Papa. Ni-night, Momma.”
“Good night, sweetie. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“’Kay.” Rebekkah circled her arms around Valerie’s neck and leaned her head against her shoulder. Valerie planted a kiss on those soft brown curls and headed upstairs to the nursery, where she helped her little sister change into a warm flannel nightie before leading her to the bathroom.
“Open wide.” Valerie squeezed a dab of Ipana toothpaste on a brush and gave it to Rebekkah, guiding her hand to make sure every tooth was brushed.
Tucked snugly in her new “big girl” bed, Rebekkah followed Valerie’s lead and recited her bedtime prayer:
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
Guide me safely through the night,
And wake me with the morning light.
Amen.”
Valerie hummed softly until Rebekkah’s eyelashes brushed her cheeks. It was better to stay with her until she fell asleep—it cut back on the nightmares she’d suffered since her arrival.
Lord, You’ve blessed us so in Rebekkah. Every time I look at her, I see the reason You brought Paul into our lives and how important those dolls really are. If it isn’t in Your plan, I may never have a child of my own, but this precious child fills such a void in all our lives. Thank You for letting Paul bring her to us. And while I’m at it, thank You for making my mother so happy with her new husband and second daughter! Amen.
She made her way downstairs and found her mother, Paul, and Mr. Benson drinking coffee in the living room, listening to the evening news on the radio.
The past two weeks had flown by far more quickly than even a single week at the hospital ever had. Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve.
He’d quickly gotten used to the routine around the house. Getting up and shaving took him far longer than it used to, but by the time he made it to the kitchen, Rosemary or Valerie had laid the table with something fresh and delicious.
Valerie would leave for the bank, where she worked hard promoting the new war bonds, and Paul would go to work as well. Between reading the newspapers from front to back and listening to the radio for news about the war, Roy had plenty to map out.
Determined to be back on his feet in the best possible condition, he’d begun taking daily “walks” around the house on his crutches. Unfortunately, the icy winter sidewalks kept him indoors. After lying in a hospital bed for so long, he needed to work up his strength again.
Aside from the freedom of movement—and good cooking—the real bright spots were the people sharing their home with him. Rosemary fussed over him like a fond mother hen while Rebekkah would toddle up to him at various times clut
ching a children’s Bible or her favorite game—Snakes and Ladders.
Paul had shared with him that he and Rosemary had decided to adopt the child but evaded going into any more depth. The little girl brought an innocent joy that lit the whole house, but at nighttime, Roy could hear Rosemary comforting her as unnamed nightmares haunted her sleep. Roy knew vague details of how the Third Reich systematically deprived Jews of their rights and even homes. The fact that they were just teaching little Rebekkah about Jesus made him wonder whether she could be one of those children. Besides, when Rebekkah cried at night, he heard her speak in German, and that bore out his suspicions as to why Paul had brought her here. Still, it wasn’t his place to ask. They’d been more than generous and hospitable to him.
The days flew by, but his favorite hours were in the evenings, when Valerie and Paul would come home, bringing stories and smiles to share. After dinner, they’d open another Advent window before Rosemary or Valerie put Rebekkah to bed. Then they’d gather in the living room for coffee and news.
Rosemary and Valerie were forever sewing tiny rag dolls to ship to their family’s business in Denmark, where they apparently needed every import they could get. Paul even pitched in, so Roy didn’t mind picking up a needle.
After Roy spent a few minutes hemming a minuscule apron, Valerie realized what he was doing. She stared in astonishment before letting loose a muffled squeak. The small sound caught Paul’s and Rosemary’s attention, and they all watched him for a while before Paul guffawed.
“Well, if that doesn’t beat all. Must be all those years looking after your uniforms, eh, Roy?”
“That’s right. But I’ll never be able to hold my own with Mrs. Kincaid. Some people just have natural talent at stitching.”
“I know!” Valerie dabbed another spot of blood with her handkerchief and moaned, “And you’re far better at this than I’ll ever be!”
Chapter 3
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 27
