A Distant Melody

by Sarah Sundin

  “I didn’t know.” Mom worked her way over and embraced him. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “Me too.” He pulled out of her hug to see half of Antioch descend on him.

  “That’s my grandson,” Grandpa Novak said. “Back from bombing the Huns. Silver Star, no less.”

  The older men shook his hand and thanked him for what he’d done for America and freedom. No one seemed to mind that he offered his left hand. The women hugged him, grateful he was safely home. The children looked up to him, some with a million questions, some too awed to speak.

  He’d left home just another Antioch kid, the least promising of the Novak boys, but now? Well, the attention was the kind of thing he thought he wanted until he got it. Dozens of people surrounded him with questions and requests for stories. He gave a quick, sanitized version of the Bremen mission, but he didn’t tell it well. All he wanted was to find Allie.

  “Shouldn’t we get to the reception?” he asked. “Where is it anyway?”

  “At the Carlisles’ house, and they’re probably wondering where we are,” Mom said. “Come along, everyone. We’ll have plenty of time for Walt’s stories at the reception.”

  How could he get away? How could he get Allie alone?

  Mom strolled down the street, one arm hooked around Walt’s elbow, the other around Dad’s. Walt tried to pick up the pace, but they lagged behind and told the whole story of Art and Dorothy, which he wanted to hear, but not so slowly.

  At the Carlisles’ he stepped into a crowd of people eager to waylay him, but he had a job to do. He smiled at his parents. “Excuse me. I need to find someone.”

  He edged through the crowd, offered smiles and handshakes, but kept moving and searching, intent on his objective. Where was she? He heard Betty’s giggle near the kitchen door. She’d know Allie’s story. He made his way over and dodged snoopy Mrs. Llewellyn.

  He laid a hand on Betty’s shoulder. “Betty, hi.”

  She looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Surprised to see you here.”

  Walt ignored her icy tone and nodded to George’s youngest sister, whom Betty was talking to. “Hi, Mary Jane.”

  “Hi, Walt.” She patted Betty’s arm. “I’ll go see if Mrs. Carlisle needs help.”

  Walt dug his hand into his trouser pocket and surveyed the room for any sign of brown curls or green eyes. “Wow. This is amazing. Art and Dorothy—about time.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Betty glared at him.

  Allie must have told her how he acted when she visited the hospital, but he kept his expression casual. “Yeah, amazing. Also amazing to see Allie Miller here.”

  “Why would that surprise you? She’s my friend. She’s allowed to visit me.”

  “No, I mean—well, isn’t she supposed to marry that Baxter fellow today?”

  Betty’s eyes grew wider and wider until Walt thought they’d fall out of her head. “Didn’t she tell you she broke her engagement? Didn’t she give you a letter?”

  He screwed up his face. “I threw it away.”

  “You what? Why’d you do that?” She whacked him in the stomach with the back of her hand.

  “Hey! I had my reasons. I thought—well, I thought it was Get Well Card stuff—every cloud has a silver lining and all that. I didn’t want to hear it.”

  “You’re a jerk, Walter Novak.”

  “Believe me, I know.” Inside his pocket, he drummed his knuckles against his leg. “So she—she broke her engagement? The wedding is cancelled, not postponed? And Baxter . . . ?”

  “Baxter’s out of the picture.”

  “Oh, wow.” Walt renewed his search for Allie. She really was available. “Wow. But—but why? Her dad picked him out for her, right?”

  “That was the problem. Allie said they never loved each other.”

  “Really?” Hope did funny, bubbly stuff inside him. So he was right a year ago when he thought Allie had never been loved, had never been in love. Maybe he wasn’t so dumb about women after all.

  Betty’s gaze flicked around Walt’s face. “Yes, really. But the main reason Allie broke up with him was because Baxter insisted she give up her volunteer work and her church, but she refused to disobey God.”

  “Oh, wow. Wow.” Hadn’t he told her to obey God whatever the consequences? Apparently he counseled her to break up with Baxter. Walt realized his face was twitching, and he strained to calm down. “She broke up with him. I can’t believe it. That took guts. Wow, her parents must be furious.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Walt nodded, too much nodding. “That’s why she’s here, isn’t it? Let them cool down until it’s safe to go home.”

  Furrows crossed Betty’s forehead. “She can’t go home again.”

  “What?” He felt as if someone tied a tourniquet around his waist.

  “She called off the wedding months ago, but her parents kept on as if nothing changed—sent invitations and everything. Isn’t that medieval? Arranged marriages went out ages ago. Oh, and are the Millers steamed. They rewrote their will and gave everything to Baxter. Allie can’t inherit a penny unless she marries him.”

  Numbness from the tourniquet spread down Walt’s legs. Allie wasn’t a society snob. She gave up her inheritance to obey God.

  “Then last week they told her if she didn’t marry Baxter today, they’d disown her.”

  Walt’s jaw went slack. “They—don’t tell me they kicked her out.”

  “That’s why she’s here, until Monday at least. She’s moving in with our friend Louise in San Francisco.”

  “Wow. San Francisco?” He ran his hand over his mouth. “How can she leave Riverside? She loves her parents, that city, her church, her friends.”

  Betty tilted her head, and her gaze dissected Walt. “She’s not as weak as you think. She’ll be fine. She wants a fresh start.”

  “I didn’t say she was weak. I mean, wow, she turned her world upside-down. That’s one strong woman. A fresh start? Wow.”

  “It’s what she needs.”

  “Yeah. Wow.” He rubbed the back of his neck and scanned the room again. Where was she? “All this—I can’t believe all this was happening and I didn’t know. When did she call off the wedding?”

  “Valentine’s Day. Don’t you love the irony?”

  February, as he figured from her letters. He frowned. “She never said anything.”

  “She didn’t tell me either for a couple months because—” Betty clamped her lips shut.

  “Why not?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why didn’t she tell us?”

  Her lips curved up slightly. “Ask her yourself.”

  Walt huffed and whipped his gaze over the heads of the guests. “I would if I could find her. Where on earth is she?”

  “I haven’t seen her since we left the church. Oh, I bet she’s hiding from you in the kitchen. Can’t believe how rude you were.” Betty reached for her sister’s arm as she passed with an empty tray. “Helen, is Allie in the kitchen?”

  “Allie? I wish. She promised to help, but no, she hasn’t lifted one manicured hand—” Helen sighed and rebalanced the tray. “I’m sorry. I’m just so frazzled.”

  “Helen, darling, sit down and enjoy the party.”

  “I know, I know. I’m Martha and you’re Mary, but the work has to be done.”

  “I’ll be in to help in a minute.”

  “Thank you, Betts.” She turned for the kitchen.

  “Wait, have you seen Allie?” Walt asked.

  Helen faced him and nudged back a blonde lock with her shoulder. “We walked back from the church together. She stopped at Betty’s, said she needed to do something.”

  Betty’s house. Swell. Back to the chase. “Thanks. See you later.”

  “Wait.” Betty grasped his arm and waited until Helen disappeared into the kitchen. Then she looked up at Walt, her eyebrows fused together. “You’re rather concerned about Allie.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, yeah. She’s a
real good friend.”

  “Won’t your girlfriend be jealous?”

  He winced. “Oh boy. I don’t—I don’t have a girlfriend. It’s—wow, it’s a long and ugly story.”

  “Are you going to tell Allie?”

  “I’m trying to. That’s why I came today. That’s why I’m looking for her.”

  “Just how much do you care for her?”

  Walt froze. Betty’s gaze was so intent, so intense, her grip on his arm so firm. She knew. She knew he loved Allie. This was no time to add another lie to his list. He raised half a smile. “Don’t you think I should tell her first?”

  Her smile lifted the corners of her eyes. “I suppose so. Now go.”

  “Wait. What do you think she’ll say? Does she—”

  “Uh-uh. You can’t make me talk. Go. Now.” She grasped his shoulders and spun him toward the door.

  He nearly bowled over Mrs. Llewellyn, which served the old busybody right for eavesdropping. He shouldered his way outside and loped down the street. Each step pounded hope into his heart. Betty seemed eager for Walt to find Allie. She seemed pleased that Walt loved Allie. What did she know?

  Walt threw open the Anellos’ front door. “Allie!”

  Forget the speech. First he’d pull her into his embrace, and kiss her and kiss her, and tell her he loved her, and make her say she loved him or cared for him or maybe thought she could learn to care for him, and kiss her over and over. Then the speech.

  “Allie!” He ran down the hall, swung around the doorjamb and into the bedroom. No Allie. The nursery? The closet stood open and empty, hangers askew. He thumped his fist on the doorjamb. “No! She left.”

  Back down the hall and into the kitchen. A note sat on the table:

  I’ve left for Louise’s. I’m sorry to leave in such haste, but I know you understand why, Betty. Thank you so much for your hospitality.

  The note crackled in Walt’s fist. “Swell. Just swell.”

  Santa Fe or Southern Pacific? Santa Fe was closer, but Southern Pacific had a later train to San Francisco. Swell. Southern Pacific was a good mile south.

  Out the door, down the street. Now each step pounded the hope out of his heart. He was the reason she was running away, and she didn’t even have the whole story yet.

  She had already broken her engagement in March, when he lied about Emily, when he was supposed to tell Allie he loved her. It wouldn’t have been improper at all. God knew that. Why did he think he knew better than the Creator of the universe?

  Walt rounded the corner onto A Street, caught sight of himself in the window of Wayne’s Hardware, and stopped in his tracks. One arm. He had one arm, and worse, he was a liar.

  Who was he kidding? Grab her and kiss her? Might as well slap her in the face. No, he had to tell her the whole ugly truth before he told her he loved her.

  “Is that Walter Novak?”

  He looked across A Street to see little white-haired Mr. Burton, his high school math teacher. Nice fellow, and he was heading for Walt.

  “Hi, Mr. Burton. Sorry, I’m in a hurry.” He sent a wave and strode on.

  He had no time to lose.

  48

  “Just in time, miss. The last train for San Francisco arrives in ten minutes.”

  “Good.” Allie counted out the fare. Once again she almost mistook a steel penny for a dime. She had so little money left. Would it cover bus fare and groceries until she received a paycheck?

  “Going somewhere fancy?”

  “Oh. I came from a wedding.” She felt color rise in her cheeks. She should have changed out of her formal gown, but if she had, she would have missed the train.

  Allie stowed the precious ticket in her handbag and checked in her baggage. The platform stretched empty around her, and so did the next five minutes.

  Tonight she’d indulge in a good cry, but not now. She wouldn’t dwell on the shame of standing naked in her love before Walt’s pitying eyes.

  Tomorrow she’d wake up in a new city, go to a new church, and make new friends.

  “Allie?”

  Her heart lurched at the beloved voice, and she turned. Walt stood not five feet away, breathing hard, his face flushed. War had matured him, slimmed his face, and made him even more handsome. Her chest contracted so hard it hurt.

  “I know you don’t want to see me,” he said. “But I’ve got to talk to you.”

  She lifted her chin, determined not to show her rampaging emotions. He wanted to discuss her letter? Why couldn’t he respect her enough to leave her alone? Didn’t he understand the humiliation of unrequited love? “This isn’t necessary.”

  “Yes, it is.” He frowned and wiped his forehead. “There’s a bunch of stuff I should have told you the other day, in May, in March, in January even.”

  What could he have to tell her? Allie glanced down the track to the east, willing her train to come.

  “I’ll try to make it fast, but I’ve got to do this. Got to.”

  She turned back. The late afternoon sun illuminated the insistence in his hazel eyes, and she nodded in spite of the knowledge that she was about to receive a heaping portion of pity.

  “First, I’m real sorry about what happened with your parents. I can’t believe they did that.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you will.” He looked her in the eye with warmth that threatened to melt her knees. “Breaking up with Baxter— that was the step of obedience, wasn’t it?”

  All the intimacy of their friendship returned in those words. Allie nodded, unable to speak.

  “I’m glad you obeyed. Real glad. But wow, I had no idea the consequences would be that bad. Do you think your parents— they’ll forgive you, won’t they?”

  Allie shook her head. Walt’s disappointment and understanding made her want to bury her face in his chest and tell him every hurt and worry and care, but he belonged to another woman.

  She pulled herself tall. “I think you should return to the reception. If our letters weren’t proper and my visit wasn’t proper, then this is most unseemly.”

  Walt grimaced, punched in the chest with his own lie, but he had to take it like a man, and he had to say what he’d come to say, every ugly word. “Listen, Allie, I lied to you and I lied about you.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t sound as surprised as he’d expected.

  “The orange, that was the first lie. You know that.” He walked past Allie to the edge of the platform. “Remember when we picked strawberries? I said I hadn’t seen the juice on your cheek. Not true. Thought it was cute and didn’t want you to clean up.”

  He turned on his heel and strode past her again, toward the station building. “Next, the wedding. I said George wanted us to dance for Art and Dorothy’s sake. That was a whopper so I could back out on our deal and dance with you.”

  He whipped around, back across the platform, and looked up the tracks—no sign of the train. “When I visited your house, you want to know what really happened? I threw away your address. Threw it away. I—well, I was attracted to you. Boy, was I mad when I learned about Baxter, but I changed my mind and wanted to write you, so Frank and I drove all over—”

  “I know.”

  Walt turned. “How did you know?”

  Allie wiped a finger under one eye. Swell, she was already crying, and he’d just gotten started. “My friend Daisy—her father was your cab driver.”

  All this time she’d known. He’d worked so hard to conceal it and for what? “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I—I didn’t want to embarrass you—or—or myself.” She wiped her cheek, made a face, and opened her purse.

  He wanted to go to her and hold her and kiss away those tears, but he had so much more to say. “Embarrassment. Pride. That’s where lies start. I’m sick of it. I even made you promise not to tell Betty we were writing. What did I say? Betty didn’t think it was proper? Nowhere near the truth. I just didn’t want her to know what I did to get your address.”

  “I—I
figured as much.”

  “You figured that one out too? Well, here’s one you don’t know.” He marched right up to her, right into her tear-stained face. “Every man at Thurleigh thought you were my girlfriend. Bet you didn’t know that.”

  “What?” Her pretty lips barely moved.

  He hadn’t been that close to her for a year, close enough to smell her sweetness. “Yeah, I told them you were my girlfriend.”

  “But—but why?”

  She was too close. He had to get away, had to keep moving. Back toward the building. “So I’d be one of the guys, so they wouldn’t bug me, so they’d respect me. It worked. And you helped—the letters, the applesauce, the cookies—wow, they thought you were crazy about me.”

  “Is—is that what this was about? I was just a decoy, a trophy—”

  “No.” Walt wheeled around. “No, never. You have no idea. Would I have written everything I did—I mean, when Frank—” He set his hand on his hip and looked at the ground until the thickness in his throat went away. Then he locked his gaze on her. “I wrote stuff to you I didn’t tell anyone else. You have no idea how much your friendship’s meant to me.”

  Allie’s mouth twisted. “Or yours to me.”

  This was when he was supposed to embrace her and kiss her and tell her he loved her, if he didn’t have one last big lie around his neck ready to hang him.

  She pulled a handkerchief from her purse. “You said you confessed a lie to your crew. Was—was that it?”

  “Yep. Cracker, of all people, he’s the one who got them to forgive me. They didn’t have to. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve your forgiveness either.”

  “Walt, I—”

  “No, wait.” He held up his hand. Nope, no hand on that side anymore. He lifted his left hand. “I’m not done yet.”

  Allie flipped open her handkerchief and pressed it to her cheek. “But you said you stopped lying after that.”

  “Well, there was an exception. I thought it would fix everything, but it just made everything worse. Lies do. Remember when I told you white lies were like ball bearings in the machinery of society? Wrong. Lies are like incendiary bombs, burning and melting and mangling everything—trust, hopes, everyone you love.”