A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection

by Dianna Crawford

  She honked the horn and the car ground to a halt. “Trudy! There you are.” Her mother’s tone made her stand bolt upright. Was it Father?

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her mother leapt from the car. “Not wrong—Kurt’s mother got a telegram. Kurt’s been found, alive, and will be sent to a hospital in Washington in a few days.”

  Chapter 8

  Trudy and her mother hurried, hurried, hurried down the corridor of the army hospital, the scent of antiseptic making Trudy’s stomach turn. Kurt … asking for them. For her. Alive. What he must have been through. Of course she had to come. It was the least they could do. Exhaustion pricked her eyelids. They’d taken a train and had sat upright for three days in the car. She wished they’d had the money to get a sleeping car. But at least they were here, now, in the nation’s capital.

  Kurt’s parents had fallen ill suddenly, too ill to travel, so they begged Trudy and her mother to go in their place. “If he can’t see us, we know he’ll want to see you.”

  Making the trip with Bradley helped. Neither she nor her mother had traveled this far before, and he made the process smooth. He attended to what they needed, whether it was securing a pillow or a blanket, and helped them connect to the right trains. They laughed when they could. Laughter was an antidote to the pain of war, to the constant reminders from the radio and newspapers. Even Mother relaxed, although she kept worrying that someone was going to steal her purse. That and if Eric was behaving for the Zimmermanns, who volunteered to let him stay with them.

  From the taxi, Trudy glimpsed the Capitol building and Washington Monument as they made their way outside the city to the hospital. If her trip hadn’t been so urgent, she’d have loved to stop and take photos.

  “I’ll see you to the hospital,” Bradley had promised. He even accompanied them inside the hospital, inquiring at the desk about where to find Kurt. He followed them along the hallway like a silent shadow.

  Trudy held his hand, regardless of her mother’s opinion at the moment. She smiled at Bradley. “Thank you for everything.” He replied by kissing her hand.

  Now each step drew Trudy closer to Kurt. For a few moments, she remembered their childhood promises, their romance that seemed so perfect—to everyone else, but not her. What was romance or true love? She knew that bottle rockets and swooning didn’t last. But weren’t you supposed to feel something for the one you loved? Of course, she felt some affection for him.

  But Kurt had never made her feel like Bradley did, like she was on the brink of some discovery or big adventure.

  “They said he’s in ward two,” Mother whispered. Trudy nodded. A nurse passed them, efficient and neat in her crisp, white uniform and cap. Somewhere, a man sobbed about needing more medicine.

  Oh Lord, please don’t let that be Kurt. But then, she wished it wasn’t anyone. This was the side of war she wanted to hide from, the reason she tried not to read the newspaper much, the reason she turned the radio off if it played anything but music. She glanced at her mother. The times her mother had volunteered at the hospital back in Texas … what had she witnessed? Trudy had never bothered to ask.

  “Here we are,” Mother said.

  Trudy felt her feet seal themselves to the tile floor. “I—I don’t know if I can go in.”

  “You can do this.” Bradley slipped his arm around Trudy’s shoulders. “I know you can.”

  “I—I want to go in by myself first,” she said. The Schulers had been vague about his injuries, other than that he was malnourished and had had a fractured leg, and some facial lacerations.

  “We’ll be right here.” Mother gave her a hug before she entered the ward.

  Sunlight streamed through the large window at the end of the two rows of beds. Trudy tried not to stare, but some images still seared themselves into her eyes. Bandages, tubes, bruises. Which one was Kurt? It had been well over a year since he’d left Fredericksburg.

  “Trudy.” One of the figures spoke. But which one? She glanced from face to unfamiliar face. It had been so long, but how could she not recognize him?

  One of the men cracked a grin at her. “I wish you were here to see me, doll.” His left eye was covered with a bandage, but his right eye, a shade of robin’s egg blue, winked at her.

  “I–I’m sorry,” was all she could stammer to the wounded soldier. She did pause at the foot of his bed and until she found her voice. “I hope you get well soon.” Just because she was here to see Kurt didn’t mean she had to ignore everyone else.

  “Over here.” A feeble, bony hand waved from the second bed from the end, then lowered to the starched white blankets.

  Trudy willed herself to walk tile by tile to Kurt’s bed and stop at the foot, by the arched metal frame of the footboard. She tried not to clamp her hand over her mouth or gasp when she saw him.

  Kurt Schuler wasn’t the young man she’d once known. Sunken cheeks, skin stretched taut over bones. His hand reminded her of a skeleton, covered with a layer of skin. Scars marred his once clear face. She remembered how she’d liked his strong jaw, his boyish shock of blond hair, now cropped close. Some had fallen out in patches, likely due to malnutrition. One leg was gone, with a stump left that didn’t come close to matching the other side. All this she took in within a few seconds that ticked by one painful second after the other.

  “Kurt, I—we’ve been so worried … all of us have been.” A sob caught her throat. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to cry. But I’m so happy you were found …”

  He reached for her hand and she refused to let herself recoil at the boniness of its touch. “I counted every day I was captured. I think. After a while, I lost track. They fed me once a week, twice if they remembered.”

  “Well, you’re here now, and all you have to think about is getting better.” She swallowed hard. “My—my mother is here. We came because your family can’t right now … soon, though. I needed to see you because of your last letter. I hope you got mine …”

  “I did.” She tried not to stare at his bruised face, the stitches. Her fingers felt numb in the grasp of his hand.

  “Trudy, I can’t promise you much more than a simple life in Fredericksburg. But even with my leg gone, I plan to walk again. I’m going to farm like my father did. He promised me at least fifty acres of my own, with peach trees, and enough space to build a house and have room for a garden.” Kurt sucked in a breath then started to cough.

  “Kurt …”

  “I know I released you from our engagement, because I knew we were both so young, but now, I can’t help but ask again …” He coughed, then spoke in a clear voice that rang out through the ward. “Gertrude Meier, will you marry me?”

  “I—I—” Trudy sighed. “Oh Kurt …”

  Bradley had heard enough, standing in the hallway opposite Trudy’s mother.

  “I’m—I’m heading to my office now, Mrs. Meier. Do you think you’ll be able to order a taxi to bring you to your hotel? Here.” He slipped her some coins for the fare.

  She nodded. “I can do that … Mr. Payne, I know you care for my daughter, and I know she cares for you. But right now, with Kurt coming home again, it will be very complicated for her.”

  He nodded. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.” In fact, he knew he was doing the right thing by leaving for his office immediately. Part of him wanted to march into the ward and talk to the former prisoner of war, now found and returned home. But it wasn’t the place or the time. Kurt Schuler wasn’t the issue, either. Even without Kurt, they both had difficult decisions to make.

  “I understand. It’s probably best to give her some time.” Mrs. Meier glanced into the ward. “I’ll tell her for you.”

  Bradley tipped his hat to Mrs. Meier. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  With that, he walked away without a backward glance. Maybe this was a sign that Trudy and Kurt were meant to be together, and his own summertime affection for her had been merely a distraction. Either way, he knew she needed distance now, not two suitors pressi
ng her, one of them barely alive.

  Numbly, he took a cab back to the office and headed straight to see Frank.

  “Payne, you did amazing work in Texas. I wasn’t sure about letting you stay like that, but you captured the hearts of those people and shared them with us.” Frank pumped his hand and clapped him on the back. “Phenomenal work. Pulitzer worthy, and I’m not pushing it to say that, either.”

  You captured the hearts of those people. No, it was his heart that had been captured. Bradley rubbed his stubbled chin. He’d barely been back, only dumped off his rucksack at his desk before speeding off to the hospital with the Meier ladies.

  “Thank you, sir.” He blew out a pent-up breath. “So, this next frontier. Where am I headed?”

  “I hope you like coconuts and pineapple, because you’re going to Hawaii.” Frank clapped Bradley on the back as if he’d just won a prize. “The housing isn’t fancy, but you’ll have room to spread out. I want you to cover the Pacific angle of the war. Keep up on the news there. Lucky dog, writing from paradise.”

  But paradise didn’t appeal to him without Trudy by his side.

  Chapter 9

  Mother, I can’t believe you let Bradley leave like that,” Trudy said as they entered their hotel room. Small, but tidy. “I wanted to introduce him to Kurt.”

  “He said he needed to go to the office, and I agreed with him.” Her mother set her handbag on the dresser.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him you needed time.”

  “Oh Mother. I need to call him as soon as possible.” Trudy found the telephone number for This American Life and dialed from the hotel room telephone. The efficient-sounding operator put her straight through to the editor-in-chief’s office.

  “Frank McAffrey’s office,” a woman said.

  “I’m–I’m looking for one of your staff writers, Mr. Bradley Payne,” said Trudy. “He’s been in Texas, in my town actually, but is now back in Washington.”

  “Yes, he’s been to the office, but he’s not here at the moment.”

  Her hope deflated a little. “Is there a way I can leave a message for him, next time he comes by? I’m Trudy Meier, a photographer from Texas.”

  “You don’t say.” The lady rustled some papers. “Well, I’m not sure when he’ll come by again. We’ve sent him to Hawaii. He’s going to lead our Pacific division for the rest of the war.”

  “I—I see. Thank you anyhow.”

  “If he calls, I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

  “Thank you.” Trudy ended the call. Hope deflated? No, this was hope dashed to pieces. She’d wanted to tell him about Kurt, that there wasn’t going to be an engagement, or a wedding. Kurt had been disappointed, but she’d sat with him for hours, talking about the goings-on in Fredericksburg. She left him with a light in his eyes and a promise to always be his friend.

  She turned from the phone to see her mother standing there. “Did you reach him?”

  Trudy shook her head.

  “Maybe it’s for the best. You don’t want a man who’s the leaving kind. He ought to fight for you, to stay around long enough.”

  “But his job—”

  “His job alone means no stability.” Her mother hugged her in a warm embrace, but that didn’t help ease the sore spot in her heart.

  Bradley Payne was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

  “I’m going to write every week, Tante Elsie,” Bradley said to his aunt.

  “I’ll hold you to that promise.” His voice was warm and soft. “I feel like I have my little brother back again.”

  “I’m glad I found the family I never knew I had for the longest time.” Bradley’s throat caught. He wanted to ask about Trudy, but dared not. He’d thought that he’d found someone, someone who understood what it was like to have wings, yet someone who taught him the importance of having strong roots.

  “You know, your Trudy isn’t getting married.”

  “What?”

  “No. Kurt will be home in Fredericksburg soon, but Trudy told him no, that she wouldn’t marry him. I think some in town were hoping they would make a match of it after all.”

  “Trudy … not married.”

  Tante Elsie stood and hugged him. “Well, I know you came here just to tell me good-bye, but you do know the way to her house. Go, go after her, Bradley.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” With that, Bradley left his family’s Sunday house and stepped into the sunlight.

  The small space of the Sunday house felt like a gaping hole that echoed with emptiness. Of course Bradley Payne had left. He’d gone on to his next story, his next big thing. Hawaii, imagine that. Briefly, Trudy had dreamed of traveling at his side as Mrs. Bradley Payne, photographing the world, yet always having Fredericksburg to return home to. He did have her address. Maybe he’d write, or send a postcard. Or something.

  Trudy sank onto the bed, covered with her grandmother’s quilt. “Oh Lord, I love him. So much. This came as a complete surprise to me, and even better, he’s part of the Zimmermann family …”

  She dashed away a tear. No time for tears. Now was a time to be strong, like her father had always encouraged her and Eric to be. Reality meant that sometimes things turned out, sometimes they didn’t.

  Enough of feeling sorry for herself. She stood, the floorboards creaking under her feet. She crossed a few steps and stopped at the table. Bradley had left pens and a bottle of ink behind. Trudy picked them up. He’d left that, plus she had a few photographs of them together. Sentimental girl … she allowed herself a sigh. She might as well head home.

  A shadow blocked the sunlight. “Trudy—”

  “Bradley.” She dropped the pens and the bottle of ink, which rolled off the table. “You’re—you’re here? But you’re supposed to be going to Hawaii.”

  “I am. I took a moment to stop here on the way. Out of my way, but I wanted to see Tante Elsie and Opa before I left.”

  “I’m sure she’s happy you did.” She wanted to tell him that there wasn’t going to be a wedding, that she’d looked for him, and she wanted to ask him why he left that day at the hospital. But she didn’t.

  “My aunt told me something interesting, though.” He stepped inside the Sunday house and closed the gap between them.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re not getting married.”

  “No, I’m not.” She shook her head. “Not to Kurt. He’s a good man and has a long road to healing, but … but we called off the wedding before he went missing. He needs someone who’ll be content to stay here, to be a farmer’s wife. And, I’m not …”

  A smile bloomed on his face, and Trudy wished she could capture the expression with her camera.

  “I know it’s been a fast summer for both of us, but when I met you, I felt like for the first time ever, I’d come home.” Bradley took her hand. “You’re beautiful, sweet, kind, and you have an adventurous spirit that pulls me along. I—I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, wherever God takes us.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she was breathless. Surely, this was a dream. He released her, but still kept her in the circle of his arms. “I think we should talk to your mother.”

  “She’ll be dubious. She thinks you’re one who leaves.”

  “I left because of Kurt. I knew that you both had a lot to talk about, and he’s been through a lot. But now that there’s no Kurt …”

  “You came back.”

  “I did … then when Tante Elsie told me you weren’t getting married, I knew I had to find you.” He frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I need to be in Hawaii as soon as possible. Will you wait for me?”

  Trudy shook her head. “No, I won’t wait for you.”

  “What?”

  “Because I’m coming with you, as Mrs. Bradley Payne.” She kissed him back. Truly, he brought out her reckless side. No proper woman proposed to a man.
<
br />   “Is that a proposal, Miss Meier?” His eyes twinkled at her.

  “Indeed it is, Mr. Payne.”

  “Actually, I’m thinking of going by Zimmermann.”

  Epilogue

  Nine months later

  Trudy would never tire of seeing the ocean, much as she missed the hill country of Texas, and the German accents of her people. The bluebonnets of spring were vivid in her memory. But she wished she could capture the blue of the ocean to show her parents. A letter arrived from Mother every week. She’d heard from Father, who was doing well, but long past ready to return home.

  Please forgive me for making things so difficult for you and Bradley. A mother only wants to protect her child. One day, I am sure you will understand, her last letter had read.

  Trudy snapped another photo of a palm tree at the edge of a sandy beach, then wound the film. For a wedding present, Bradley had given her a brand-new camera.

  “Are you out of film?” Bradley asked.

  She nodded. “I can’t wait to see how these come out.” They’d turned their pantry into a darkroom, much to her delight.

  “Frank is pleased as punch with your photographs, as am I.” There was talk of eventually bringing This American Life into a color print format, one day. There was also talk of Trudy Meier Zimmermann winning a photography award as well, but Trudy wasn’t thinking of that overmuch these days.

  “I’m thankful that I get to do what I love, and that you and I are together in such a beautiful place like this. Our apartment isn’t much to speak of …” She didn’t mean to sound as if she were complaining, because they were often out and about on their assignments together.

  “I wish it were more …”

  “But I love it because we’re together.” She smiled at her husband.

  Bradley kissed the tip of her nose, then touched her stomach. “Have you felt the baby move?”

  “Not yet.” She smiled. “It’s too early. I think. My mother would know.” Sometimes homesickness struck Trudy in waves, but the wonder of discovering the world around her kept that at bay most of the time. Now, she felt sickness for a different reason. Bradley had been over the moon when she told him about the baby.