by Cat Gardiner
“Yeah, that’s right, You have a letter to write to your sweetheart. Doubt you’ll be doin’ that.”
“Oh yes I will. Lucky Bastard Martel, isn’t that what the Squadron calls me?”
As the Marauder’s tricycle wheels eased into a turn, taxiing at a slow five miles per hour, Will had a clear line of vision down to his aircraft’s apron at the end of the six bombers sitting screwdriver ready for their next flight. Vivid, amidst the olive-clad bodies crowding the flight line, an ethereal white dress billowed brightly in the light breeze. The plane rolled closer, and she came into detail, right down to those gorgeous gams of hers.
Will’s heart hammered against his chest with the dawning awareness. “Ho—ly—Shit!”
McCarthy grinned. “It’s her isn’t it? Lizzy?”
The bombardier in the nose stuck his head up the tunnel between the copilot’s legs. “Is that who I think it is at the hangar line?” He whistled. “Yowza! Come to daddy!”
Rocco the navigator unlatched his seat belts to come forward from his compartment. He climbed into the tight cockpit, looking out the window between his skipper and co-pilot. “Pistol’s here? Where? I gotta see her!” With his hands, he traced the outline of her curves and whistled, too.
Will elbowed him in the gut. “Calm down and hands off.”
The dorsal turret gunner spoke over the radio. “Hot damn, that is Lizzy. I’d know those legs anywhere!”
Finally, the last crew member craned his head to see her from his position at the waist gun window, practically howling through the ship’s radio, “Martel, you lucky bastard. She’s a dish!”
Suddenly, all the radio chatter stopped and six men sat mesmerized by the vision grinning mischievously, waiting for one man only.
Will wanted to laugh aloud, but he was utterly blown over, completely shell shocked. Lizzy was breathtaking—and here—for him. No doubt, he was the envy of the entire squadron.
The aircraft stopped just short of its destination, and he engaged the parking brake. What seemed like forever was only the necessary two minutes when he was finally able to cut the engine and shut off all the switches on the dash. The ground crew rushed forward, and the propellers drew to a slow wind down.
He slid his pilot window open and stared down at his girl through Ray Bans, removing his radio headgear. The stirrings of pure love created the smile he gave her as she held his admiring gaze, biting her lip to keep from grinning. He could tell that his ball of fire was ready to explode—and so was he. With her, he was a different man altogether; she did that to him.
She placed a hand beside her mouth and called up above the slowing hum of the propellers, “What’s cookin’, Lieutenant?”
He chuckled. “Chicken. Do you wanna neck?”
McCarthy slapped his shoulder. “Go get her, you wolf.”
The second the propellers came to a complete halt, Will anxiously unhooked his seat belts, disregarded all his post-flight protocols, and quickly descended the stairs of the nose wheel well.
When he re-appeared through the bottom of the Marauder, the impressive image of him wearing his flight uniform leather jacket and life preserver caused her hand to rest upon her heart until he took a step toward her, all dimples.
Everyone watched as the lieutenant’s girl ran into his arms with a squeal and laughter that had each and every hot-blooded male wishing he was her guy.
She crashed into Will, and he swept her into his arms, lifting her at the waist and spinning her around. Holding onto her tightly, he ignored the rubber Mae West draped around his neck. Lizzy’s fresh, captivating jasmine scent and the passionate, soft feel of his girl pressed against him replaced the surreal surroundings of war, steel, and the smell of aviation fuel. Her presence consumed every single one of his senses.
Overcome with emotion, he ignored the whistles and hoots of the men around them and stopped his spinning. He was dizzy already by just her presence. Lizzy’s feet dropped to the makeshift tarmac, and she gazed into his eyes with that green sparkle of energy he missed so much. Her breath was as ragged as his, her smile as glorious.
Soft lips met her eager, plump ones in a kiss that tenderly lingered with sweet pliable caresses. Their mouths came together, taking and tasting in their reunion. Decorum, modesty, and the on-looking 451st Bomb Squadron were completely obliterated.
Lizzy reveled in the smoothness of his cheek brushing against hers and nearly swooned from the intoxicating sensation of his lips and the waft of his clean Barbasol fragrance.
Suddenly, every care they both felt burdened with had washed away in their embrace. Both felt safe, understood, and protected by something so pure that it could conquer all their demons. True destined love did that.
When their lips separated, she was breathless and slightly unsteady on her feet but firmly held in place by his arm around her waist. “Hi Ducky.”
“Hi Pistol.”
“Are you happy I’m here?”
He kissed her again, a small whisper upon her mouth to keep her from biting her bottom lip. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m over the moon, baby.”
He looked over her shoulder as though eagerly searching for something in particular. “Did you bring me a book in your library on wheels?”
“Oh, you!”
Lizzy finally noticed all the men watching their reunion, and she giggled with uncharacteristic embarrassment. “You’re far from the fuddy duddy who left Brooklyn.”
“Don’t be so sure. It’s only when I’m around you that I get wacky, even wolfish. G-d, I missed you.”
“I couldn’t stay away. I missed you, too and with your birthday in a few weeks ...”
Will kissed her again, deeper this time unable to control the swell in his chest.
She smoothed her white glove up his shoulder to his cheek and their lips parted reluctantly. With a suspicious grin she asked, “Will, why do all the men seem to know me? Did you show everyone that snapshot of me you placed above the altimeter?”
Taking her hand in his, he thread their fingers tightly together so that one couldn’t discern an iota of separation between the two—they were one. The quirk to his mouth was almost on par with Louie’s shit-eating grin. It certainly was as naughty.
He led her to the opposite side of his bird where his aircrew stood assembled awaiting her arrival and the eagerly anticipated introduction to themselves and her much admired namesake.
The proud skipper pointed to the nose of the plane, “Lizzy Renner meet your larger, faster ship—my beautiful good luck charm.”
“Oh. My. Goodness!” She playfully swatted his arm at the sight before her.
Painted upon the grey steel was her image from Bar Beach: two-piece, white swimsuit, flower in hair, and long legs draped over the side of a bomb. Beside her shoulder read, “Pistol Packin’ Lizzy.”
She jumped into his arms with glee. “You made me famous! I love it!”
~~*~~
Twenty-One
Melody of Love
October 14, 1942
Lizzy had packed her midnight blue taffeta dress, envisioning an intimate dinner at Don Quixote’s Restaurant followed by romantic dancing on its rooftop. Pearls and the lustrous silk seemed just the ticket, but when Ducky invited her to the U.S.O. dance at the Service Member’s Club featuring Frances Langford, how could she resist accepting? With no time to shop, the dress would have to do. He was inviting her into his world and that made her so proud.
She stole several stealthy peeks of Will, enjoying how he looked at her with that adorable grin of his. It was clear how happy he was that she was here. Since arriving at the hotel lobby to escort her, his compliments hadn’t ceased, and she couldn’t help delighting that he loved the dress. Such a simple thing but one she had felt a tinge insecure about, wanting to have worn a more vibrant color of silk satin or crepe de chine. However, when he moved his hand from behind his back to give her another white gardenia, all insecurity vanished. It was the perfect complement, just the touch her dress required an
d she promptly swept it into her hair.
On his arm, her wide eyes took in the dance hall as they entered and she couldn’t help being impressed. In her newly infused patriotic zeal, the overall splendor was as wondrous as her high society debut ball at the Waldorf Astoria two years prior. Being there with Will made her giddy inside and she audibly chuckled, thinking how her mother’s high-pitch, infantile voice would state it unrefined, then hiccup before going on about how a Renner’s lips should never touch anything but crystal, silver, and Meissen porcelain.
The stark, utilitarian building on the airfield had been transformed by an explosion of patriotic bunting and flags. Twinkling lights hung over the dance floor providing a canopy of glittering, magical romance. The stage was decorated with a huge American flag backdrop behind the musicians’ stands, each emblazoned with the letter S. The Skyliners were the “in-house” twelve-piece band of the 322nd.
The local Lakeland U.S.O. had done a wonderful job seeing to the décor and amenities for the 200 boys. Only half as many girls, accompanied by several individual or group chaperones, arrived via shuttle buses. Female members of the local Kiwanis Club also turned out for the event, as did many young ladies in their senior year from Miss Langford’s alma mater, Lakeland High School. The Hollywood starlet’s U.S.O. performance was a highlight for almost all, but not Lizzy—that highlight was spending precious time with her flyboy before he would be leaving for Europe.
Already in full swing when they arrived, the band jumped and jived to “American Patrol,” the floor crowded with olive-clad servicemen, some even dancing with each other. She took in the energized scene, then met Will’s gaze, and she fought against the overpowering urge to kiss him. This place, this moment with this man was the best, most perfect moment of her entire life. It seemed that since meeting him, she had several of those. Each and every moment with him had been “the most” perfect until surpassed by the next: their first dance at Meercrest, the war parade, their first kiss on the carousel, and their second date on the Sound.
Will leaned down to her as they walked toward the dance floor. He looked so handsome in his dress uniform and smelled so good.
“Would you like to dance or would you like a drink first?” he asked.
“Can we sit and just talk for a little while? We’ve hardly had any time together, and I’m keen on telling you all about my trip down. I have so much to share.”
“My thoughts exactly. Why don’t you grab that table over there, and I’ll get us a couple of drinks.”
She nodded, and he boldly ran his index finger down her cheek.
A cozy deuce table beckoned her in the corner of the hall, and with Will hardly gone to the bar for mere minutes, two of the PPL’s ground crew seized the opportunity to approach its namesake. “Lizzy, is that you?”
She beamed and giggled now that she was in on the joke. “It is, boys. Are you glad to see me in person?”
Suave in manner, the blond soldier slid out the chair reserved for Will and took her hand in his across the table. “Pistol, I feel like I’ve known you for years. I work on your body every day and spend every night beneath your magnificent fuselage.”
“Well, Joe … as charming as you are, there is only one man allowed to call me Pistol, but you can call me Lizzy.”
“Lucky Bas … um … Martel is one lucky devil, but since he’s over there and I’m over here, how about a dance—or I’ll settle for a kiss from those pretty, red lips of yours.”
She saucily addressed the other uniformed young man. “Is he always such a wolf?”
“Worse. He’s tame tonight. Either that or trying to make an impression.”
“Oh, he’s making an impression all right.”
Lizzy patted the forward GI’s hand. “Although you appear to be quite a swell hoofer, I have to decline. Sorry, Wolfie, but thank you. You see, all my dances are reserved for the lieutenant, as are every single one of my kisses. Of course, he’s such a gentleman he would never make such overt passes at me.”
From the bar, Will watched as the PPL’s mechanics tried to work his girl in his absence. He was amused by everyone’s eagerness to meet her and acknowledged that he had only himself to blame for it, but damn if he wasn’t so proud. As proud as he felt when McCarthy finished painting her likeness on the side of their war bird. In fact, at the time, he felt so uncharacteristically brazen he thought to borrow Rocco’s Kodak and take a snapshot to send to Lizzy’s old man, Herr Renner, with a note: “Tell your buddies in the Luftwaffe they’re shooting at your daughter, my lucky charm. Oh, and by the way, vater, you can kiss my ass. Mazel Tov!”
Will navigated the crowded room with two cups of punch until finally he stood before the two corporals.
“Beat it, fellas.”
“Sorry, Lieutenant, but rules of the U.S.O. are that no girl can sit out when there are soldiers just itchin’ for a dance. She’s outnumbered and I’m itchin’,” Wolfie grinned mischievously.
“That kind of itching is gonna keep you stateside in the infirmary.” Will puffed his chest slightly and looked down at Lizzy’s twisting mouth. He smiled seeing how she was enjoying this, testing his jealousy and challenging him in playful response to his teasing about the nurses. “How about you give us a little time together first, then if Miss Renner is willing, you can step all over her feet. I warn you though, she’s likely to make you look like a dud out there. She’s quite a ducky shincracker.”
He winked at her and she beamed, nodding in agreement at his affectionate usage of the slang that began it all.
One of the men exclaimed, “Hot damn!” and the other quickly vacated Will’s seat with a sweeping flourish to his arm. The band changed their tune and both men took to the dance floor partnered with each other for a fast Lindy Hop.
“So where were we, beautiful?” Will asked, taking the empty seat and sliding it closer to her, breathing in the intoxicating scent of the gardenia in her hair.
“You were just about to tell me how your mosquito bites are doing.”
“In need of care.” He picked up her hand and examined the red bite upon her forearm. “As are you.”
“Darned Kamikaze. It happened in a little town called Pierce. Who knew the Japanese would find such a podunk place.”
Will deposited a tiny kiss to the offending welt.
“My, my, Ducky. You have become terribly sentimental since your arrival to Florida, all this public affection. What will your C.Os say?”
“They’re jealous, and I’m only sappy today because my girl used gallons of vital fuel and most likely sped, like the hellion she is behind the wheel, to see me. I’m flattered by the total disregard of your newfound patriotism. Tell me, did you wipe out any armadillos in your wake?”
“Ha. Ha. I’ll have you know that I took a leisurely drive through Central Florida and my fuel gauge barely budged a bit after I re-filled it.
He chuckled. “And where was that?”
“Eighteen miles from the airfield in that podunk town.”
“Pistol, Pistol, Pistol. You’re a naughty girl.”
“I know. It’s what you love most about me.”
He tapped her nose. “Who said love? I didn’t say love. Loose lips sink ships, you know.”
Lizzy leaned into him, speaking low and seductively for his ears only. “You didn’t need to say it. I know you’re in love with me, and I couldn’t be happier about it because I’m head over heels in love with you.”
Her ruby kisser was mere inches from his and he had to contain himself from taking her into his arms. “Love already?”
She whispered again, and he experienced a surge of sensation from the feel of her warm breath upon his ear, like a puff of her heated essence.
Gone was the joking intonation but in its stead was heartfelt sincerity. “Yes, Will. I love you.”
“You better be careful, I might not give your heart back once you give it to me.”
“Too late, daddy. It’s yours. Like the song—I’m all yours. After all
, I am painted on the side of your Marauder. It’s the highest compliment when a skipper names his ship after his sweetheart. It means true love. Forever love that will endure the high seas and rough waters side-by-side even when distance separates us—me and you.”
This was dangerous territory he found himself in. Yes, he loved her in a forever kind of way, without a doubt, but something held him back. He’d thought about it time and again. Was it her father or was it still that fear that he might not make it back in one piece? Telling her he loved her without sharing the secrets he held in his heart seemed disingenuous. Love meant being honest about everything, but here and now was neither the place nor time to have a serious discussion with her about religion—but he would, without fail before she went back home or he left for the ETO, whichever came first.
Center stage, the blonde beauty, Frances Langford, sashayed to the silver microphone, and the crowd went wild. Her beaded champagne golden gown glittered and clung in all the right places. “As Time Goes By” brought the wolfish corporal back to Lizzy and Will’s table.
“Lizzy, may I now have this dance?”
She looked to Will for his approval, and he nodded with a reluctant smirk. Damn, too soon!
“Well, since you asked so gentlemanly, yes.” She kissed Will’s cheek and joined the crush of dancers.
Two minutes later, he watched the PPL’s bombardier tap Lizzy’s dance partner’s shoulder and Stevens took her further away from his line of vision.
Will played with the plastic swizzle stick in his punch and popped the maraschino cherry into his mouth. He tapped his fingers against the tablecloth and strained to find her within the crowd. It was the longest three minutes ever, and the wait for her return filled him with longing. Finally, a glimpse of her effervescence emerged from the crowd, heading in his direction with a delightful grin of mischievous exuberance.
“Did you miss me?”
“Every minute. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“You sound jealous. You shouldn’t be you know. It’s you who started this.”
