A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection

by Dianna Crawford

  Separation continued to test their love. Every parting sent shivers of fear down Elisabeth’s spine. Would this be the last time she saw him? As days passed, she wavered between the joy of new love and desperation to know he was safe. During those desperate moments, she looked to the sky. Even during daylight or when clouds obscured her view, she took comfort in knowing the moon was there, whether she could see it or not.

  Then in the middle of March, after a single joyous afternoon together, Ian flew out again. A week passed. Then two. Then a month. Each day, Elisabeth struggled to keep her hope alive. When it seemed she could hope no longer, she’d glimpse the moon and feel a resurgence of confidence. Somehow she would know if he’d been shot down. She had to believe that. Until she heard otherwise, she’d cling to courage. She read and reread Lucy’s journal. Lucy hadn’t even had brief reunions with Jere to feed her hope. If God could bring Jere and Lucy together after their horrific experiences, surely He would do the same for her and Ian.

  Palm Sunday arrived, but still no word from Ian. Even Don Landry seemed to have vanished. Usually Elisabeth loved Easter. With its theme of resurrection, it had always been her favorite holiday. But this year she struggled to feel the joy of it. The threat of death seemed more potent than the promise of resurrection.

  She’d just begun her night shift when she heard the sickening screech that told of yet another missed landing at the airstrip. She and Sandra were on shift together that night, and with only a glance exchanged, they began to prepare for the worst. As expected, within minutes the hospital doors banged open. “Nurse!” an urgent male voice called out as a stretcher was carried in. Through the open doors she could see two more stretchers being unloaded. “Another crash. Is the doc around?”

  “He’s on his way,” she assured the stretcher carriers. The man they carried looked battered beyond recognition. His legs lay at awkward angles and his arm dangled loosely. She couldn’t tell where his specific injuries were beneath the bloodied clothing.

  So began the longest night of her nursing career. Three planes skidded off the airstrip—it was due to freezing fog, she was told later. The worst crash was a cargo plane bringing Ferry Command pilots back from England, where they’d delivered bombers to be used on the European front. Both wards filled with injured. Some merely had broken limbs. Others required all the medical skill available to get them through the night alive. She worked ceaselessly, pushing away the fear that the next patient through the door would be Ian. He wasn’t, but her craving to know his whereabouts grew. She kept her mind focused on the tasks at hand and refused to think about possibilities. When the morning shift of nurses arrived, Elisabeth and Sandra made their way back to the barracks without a word. They were exhausted in every way—minds, bodies, and emotions.

  Four of the injured required solicitous care through Elisabeth’s following three nights on duty. She poured her longing for Ian into the care she gave her patients. On the fourth night, her last on night shift, one of the men died. He was the first patient she’d lost since coming to Goose Bay.

  But her grieving this time was different from her grief over Cynthia. While she ached over the loss, she still felt a peace that defied explanation. She even found words to write a letter of condolence to the man’s wife, describing his last conscious moments and the words of love that had come with his last breath.

  Her heartrending duty done, she then slept around the clock, waking only for a single meal. When she awoke Saturday morning, the soldier’s widow was the first thing on her mind. She wandered through the day at loose ends. She didn’t even have the solace of the ward to return to until Sunday morning, Easter Sunday. She tried to occupy herself with Lucy’s and Jere’s letters to each other, but they only intensified her longing for Ian. She went for a walk but ended up at the edge of the airfield where the charred remains of one of the aircraft lay only a hundred feet away.

  Easter Sunday dawned with sunshine. Much as she’d wished for duty yesterday, on this morning she wished she were off. How she would have loved to share in the Easter service with other believers. She arrived on the ward to find that one other patient had died, but the other two who were in critical condition were expected to live. Just as she’d grieved over the deaths, so now she felt deep joy at the others’ recovery.

  She pushed through her duties for the day, keeping a smile on her face as much as possible. But when three o’clock came, releasing her from the ward, she practically ran for the chapel. It had been there that she’d found comfort after Cynthia’s death. Maybe there God would meet her again with comfort for the ache of loneliness and fear.

  Something drew her to the front of the simple empty room, where she knelt at the bench. The dim quiet made her think of the tomb on the first Easter Sunday when the women had come to do one last service for the Lord they loved. But instead of the body, they found an empty cave. For the first time, Elisabeth understood the fear and agony that must have coursed through them. Not yet understanding the Resurrection, they thought someone had stolen the body of their Lord, removing their last tangible contact with Him.

  She could identify. No contact. No means of communication. She lay her head down on her arms and wept. As the tears subsided, she began whispering into the dimness. “Father, I’ve tried so hard to be courageous, to be faithful. You know how much I’ve come to love Ian, how much I miss him. Even more than that, You know how afraid I am that something has happened to him. You know where he is, Father. Please give me the strength to keep waiting, to keep hoping. Keep him safe in Your love.” Her whispering voice broke, and again the tears fell.

  The peace enveloped her again. She felt loved and strengthened. Still she knelt, basking in the wonder of it. Then the creak of the door caught her attention. Silhouetted in the doorway stood the tall form she’d been craving to see. “Ian?” It took only seconds for her to be on her feet. With long strides, he met her in the middle of the center aisle. His hug left her breathless as he lifted her off her feet for a joyous kiss. His face was rough with several days growth of beard, and shadows of fatigue rimmed his gray eyes. But there was no mistaking the love shining through the dirt and weariness.

  “Elisabeth, my love! I’ve missed you more than I can tell you.”

  Pure joy caused laughter to bubble out of her. “You don’t need words. I’ve missed you the same way.”

  He set her gently on a bench. Then, rather than sitting beside her, he knelt before her. “Elisabeth, you’ve become part of my heart. I wish I could promise you forever, but all I have to give you is right now, this moment. Still, I have to ask; when this wretched war is over, would you become my wife?”

  For just a moment the old terror made her hesitate. Could she pledge her heart, knowing it might be broken? But she drew again on the peace that had carried her through these past six weeks of loneliness and uncertainty. Her heart had already bound itself to this man’s. She could try to protect it and wound them both, or she could accept the love that had grown between them and trust whatever the future held. Divine love would carry her through.

  She leaned forward to capture his face between her hands. “Yes, I’ll marry you, dearest Ian.”

  World War II ended in May of 1945. Elisabeth fulfilled her requirement to serve six more months with the Army Nurse Corps, then accepted release back to the Red Cross. She applied for, and received, a transfer to the Canadian Red Cross. She and Ian were married in Papa Johan and Mama Glorie’s living room on December 19, 1945. They then returned to Halifax, Nova Scotia, where Ian’s career with the Royal Canadian Air Force continued. They had four children and visited Johan and Glorie frequently in the United States. Two of their children returned to the States as adults, where they married and raised their families.

  JANELLE BURNHAM SCHNEIDER

  Janelle published her first five books with Barbour Publishing under her maiden name of Janelle Burnham. She put her writing aside during her own true-to-life romance, wedding, and the birth and infancy of her daughter, E
lisabeth. She then wrote her sixth book with lots of encouragement and practical support from her husband, Mark. A son, Johnathan, has since joined the family, but with Mark’s help, she continues to make time for her writing. As a military wife, she has lived in various places across Canada, including British Columbia, New Brunswick, Alberta, and Ontario, collecting new story ideas and learning much about real romance. The family now lives in Winnipeg, Manitoba where Mark is employed as a project manager for the federal government and Janelle works as an administrative assistant.