by Sarah Monzon
“Well?” Rose asked as soon as the door clicked behind them.
Alice shook her head.
Rose squeezed Alice’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”
A million sorrys wouldn’t bring Teresa back. Nothing would.
“We have the rest of the day off. Why don’t we head to town? See some sights? Get our minds off this so we can fly straight tomorrow. Thomas should be able to meet us.” She elbowed Alice in the ribs with a grin. “Maybe Mr. Caldwell is free.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be good company tonight. I’m going to head back to the flat.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“You don’t have to give up a night out with Thomas on my account.”
“Oh, I’m not. I’m going back to the flat to help you pick out a killer-diller dress. Then we’re going to take you to the Candlelight Club, where you’re going to jitterbug with every dreamboat in the joint.”
“Rose, I really don’t feel like—”
Rose held up a hand. “I know. Teresa dying is awful. Concentration camps, Pearl Harbor, this blasted war, all of it is horrible. You want to hide away in the dark so that your outside surroundings match the bleakness of your inside emotions.” She put her hand on Alice’s arm. “You do that, and they win. They may not kill your body, but they will eat away at your soul until there is nothing left. You have to fight back. Even if your only weapon is living, not in darkness but in light.”
Alice tilted her head. “You’re saying if I go out dancing, then I’m fighting?”
“Exactly.”
Rose’s little speech wasn’t without merit. It would be all too easy to get sucked into the hopelessness that beat her down. Hitler and Japan seemed to be gaining ground every day. How were they going to stop them?
Sometimes she was so tired. Tired of fighting her father and society for something so simple as following her passion, trying to make a difference…for simply being her. It would be easy to lie down, breathe, let someone else take up the mantle and battle. But no one else could fight her fight for her, could they?
Which meant she had to keep going. Even if it was only her muscle memory putting her through the paces until one day her heart healed enough to resume the battle cry.
Alice refused to let her shoulders droop as she looked at Rose. “You might have to teach me the steps to the jitterbug. Daddy didn’t think it as necessary to learn as the waltz.”
“That’s my girl.” Rose’s smile grew. “What do you say? Should we ring Mr. Caldwell at the paper and see if he’d like to join us?”
Heat crept into Alice’s cheeks. “That is rather presumptuous, isn’t it?”
“Did he not literally sweep you off your feet yesterday?”
Her cheeks burned hotter at the memory of being held in Henry’s arms. “He was merely trying to protect me from the air raid.”
“Hmmm…not a far leap from being a protector of your person to a protector of your heart.” Rose wiggled her brows.
Alice gave her a playful shove. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”
The city bus slowed to a stop in front of them and swung open its door. The girls stepped up, paid the fare, and took a seat halfway back.
“I am the opposite of hopeless. You’ve never met a person fuller of hope than I.” Rose clasped her fingers in her lap as the bus accelerated. “For instance, I have hope that there will be beauty among the ashes, that new beginnings will take root even among the death and thorns around us.” She looked at Alice with an impish grin. “And that you, my friend, will fall madly in love with a certain journalist and have a passel of the most adorable children.”
Visions of miniature Henrys, little tykes with curly blond hair and clear blue eyes, flashed in her mind. The sense of dread that usually accompanied the thought of her as a mother didn’t sink in her stomach. Would she make a good mother to Henry’s children? But if she were their mother, that would make her Henry’s wife. Her cheeks nearly caught fire with that realization.
She discovered Rose inspecting her with a knowing look and coughed. “I think you have watched entirely too many Hollywood films. Real life isn’t quite as perfect and clean cut as it seems on the big screen.”
“Mmhhmm. Next you’ll try to tell me love doesn’t conquer all.”
The bus stopped and the girls exited. A block away they headed up the stairs to their third-floor flat. Rose rolled her hair in long strips of cloth to set and then pulled out two dresses from the closet. One was a red crushed velvet with a belled bottom, cinched waist, and a deep V neckline.
She held it up in front of Alice. “I think this would be perfect with your pale complexion and wheat-colored hair. Add a bit of red lipstick, and you’ll be turning all the doughboys’ heads in town.”
Alice took the dress and began to pull it on over her head. “I thought you said I was supposed to fall madly in love with a journalist.” When her head popped free of the fabric, she winked.
“I never said you shouldn’t lead him on a merry chase first.” Rose’s laugh bubbled.
How the woman could be so calculating in love but keep her aura of innocence was beyond Alice.
Rose reached toward the dresser behind her and scooped up a lovely strand of glass beads, draping them around Alice’s throat. Her gaze met Alice’s in the mirror. “You’ll have them eating out of your hand.”
Alice fingered the beads. “I’d rather they eat off plates,” she mumbled under her breath.
Rose laughed and twirled around, picking up her own gown of blue chiffon. The color enhanced the natural bronze highlights in her hair, and the square neckline and fitted waist complimented her small physique. Thomas wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off her.
Speaking of… “Is Thomas going to pick us up or meet us there?”
“My Thomas is a complete gentleman. He would never let his girl venture into the dangerous throng of rowdy men without a proper escort.” She winked.
“Because you are in more danger in a club in the city than in a cockpit close to the front lines?”
More laughter tumbled from her mouth. “Exactly.”
A knock sounded on the door.
Rose grabbed her clutch and opened the door.
“You look divine, my dear.” A tall slender man with wavy black hair and a mustache as thin as a line above his upper lip bowed over Rose’s hand and kissed it.
Her cheeks bloomed the color of her name before she stepped aside and ushered Alice forward. “Thomas, I’d like you to meet my friend Alice.”
He held out his hand, and Alice slipped hers in for a light and brief shake. “A pleasure.”
“Well”—Rose looked at them both—“are we ready?”
Thomas cocked both elbows, and Alice followed Rose’s example and slid her hand in a groove.
The night air was a bit thick with humidity and darker than when Alice had stridden the streets a decade before, although she was beginning to get used to the lack of light due to blackout curtains and the city’s cautious measures.
A few streets away they stepped down onto the garden level, music and laughter swirling in the air.
The strong smell of cognac and the haze of cigarette smoke made it hard to breathe. A gramophone sat in the corner, the popping music of Artie Shaw and his orchestra setting the beat for those doing the jive on the dance floor. Electricity zinged through the air. The music, the dancing, the atmosphere seeped into Alice’s pores until she found herself toe tapping to the beat.
Daddy’s stuffy country club and elegant balls had been beautiful but stifling, There, it seemed as if people went through the motions of social graces, moving to the music around the ballroom. Here, the music moved through you, everyone grasping hold of the vitality of life.
“Let’s dance,” Thomas shouted over the din and pulled Rose onto the dance floor, leaving Alice standing along a far wall. She didn’t mind. She had a good view of the place. From here she could watch those doing the Lindy Hop, the couples with their heads bent t
ogether sitting at the white-cloth tables for two, and the larger groups of infantrymen enjoying their bit of liberty.
“Why Miss Galloway, aren’t you a picture.”
Alice turned to find Henry Caldwell, dapper in a gray three-piece suit, the brim of his Hamburg clasped in his fingers in front of him.
“Mr. Caldwell, what a surprise.”
“Indeed. A pleasant one though, I hope?”
She inclined her head. “Of course.”
“Would you care to join me for a drink?” He extended his arm to the right to indicate a vacant table.
“I’d be delighted.”
They wove their way through the crowd toward the round table, Henry grasping the back of the chair and pulling it out for her. As she lowered herself into the seat, she could feel the tips of his fingers graze the skin at the back of her upper arms. Not an unpleasant tingle shot up her spine. His hands remained as he bent low to her ear. “What can I get you to drink?”
She never had been one for alcoholic beverages. “Do you think they might have a Coca-Cola?”
He sent her a warm smile. “My weakness as well. I’ll be back with two.”
And moments later he was.
“I’m glad I ran into you tonight.”
Palms unnaturally sweaty, Alice gripped the cold glass bottle and brought it to her lips, the fizz tickling her nose. “Oh?”
“Yes.” He leaned forward and took her hand from the bottle, cradling her fingers in both his hands.
Strong hands. Warm. Fingers stained with ink that were gently caressing her own.
“I’ll be leaving tomorrow and not sure when I will return.”
The motion of his fingers were hypnotizing. “Leaving?”
“On a story near the front.”
She raised her eyes to meet his. “Will you be safe?”
He squeezed her fingertips. “Will you wait for me? Not get romantically attached to one of these blokes?” He flicked his chin to a group of RAF pilots in the corner before settling his gaze back on her. “I know we only met, but you intrigue me like no other woman has before. And if we weren’t at war and I wasn’t leaving, I wouldn’t jump the gun like this, but I’m also not willing to risk you getting away. Not before I get a chance to know you better.”
This couldn’t be happening, could it? Was it a dream and she’d wake up and find herself back in the flat with Rose? Or even back at White Oak plantation, Daddy planning out the rest of her life for her. Self-absorbed rich husband who expected her to smile pretty and look good on his arm during important dinners to advance his career. It was the plan drilled into her since she’d worn her hair in pigtails. But the man in front of her now? He wasn’t someone she could take home for Daddy’s approval. Then again, Daddy hadn’t approved of much she’d done of late, and that hadn’t stopped her. She had already started to change her thinking from what her father would want to what she wanted.
Taking a deep breath, she smiled, “I’d like to get to know you better as well.”
Chapter Fifteen
Present Day, Maryland
It was possible.
Air whooshed out of his lungs. Flying was possible. Not in the navy and not a Super Hornet, but flying, yes.
Michael looked up from his computer screen, his eyes registering the streams of sunlight entering his narrow living room through the bay window, the scratched and dented parquet floor, the fireplace surround in dire need of updating. Aware of his surroundings but not focused on them, his mind was preoccupied with the information he’d gathered. A dog barked outside and drew his attention back to the window, where one of his neighbors walked her Great Dane. The dog sniffed a sapling planted along the sidewalk before hiking its leg. Michael’s gaze drifted back down to his computer screen.
A quick Google search had produced more stories of amputee pilots than imagined. Most had lost either an arm or a leg, but the image of an armless woman flying with her feet at the controls had him awestruck. People really were capable of overcoming any obstacle.
All things. The verse in Philippians came rushing back to him. He could do all things through Christ.
Except have a military career as a fighter pilot.
Would the thought never cease to raise its ugly head? It hid in the shadow of his mind, ready to jump out and prod him, remind him of all he’d lost—all he’d used to be, would never be again. No matter how much positivity he transfused into his thinking, the sense of being robbed clung to him like a disease.
So he did the only thing he knew how—he moved forward. Put his body and life in motion. And now it looked like that motion could be in the direction of flying again. A plan, a purpose driving him toward a goal. He could stop treading water in this quicksand of uncertainty and aimlessness. He could even turn his accident into God’s glory. If he overcame the burden he’d been shackled with and reached for a dream, could other amputees and handicapped be inspired to do the things others had deemed out of their reach?
The idea sounded good. Noble. Admirable.
Then what was hold him back? Like a dog straining against a leash, he felt confined and unable to move forward.
A growl rumbled in his chest, his fingers tingling and itching to close into fists. His chest restricted with the need to lash out, make accusations about the unfairness of it all. Finally, he’d found somethings that would give him meaning in life, and God was keeping it from him.
Michael closed the laptop and pulled his hand across the back of his neck. The silence was defeating. Not just in his living room, but from God. He was floundering, had found what he considered a lifeline, and there was no divine green light saying that was the direction, to reach out and grab ahold of it. How much longer could he tread through life before he lost strength and drowned?
It would be really great if You’d fill me in on Your ultimate plan. Not knowing what his future looked like was killing him. He’d always had a clear picture of where’d he’d be in five, ten, or fifteen years. Shoot, he’d known where he’d be for the next thirty years—full military career until retirement.
But now? Nothing. The only thing he knew for certain was physical therapy and a growing interest in a certain woman with snapping golden eyes, the cutest button nose, and enough independence and unconventionality to brave a male-dominated career path.
Guilt tempered the warm thoughts of Jackie. Not exactly what Geyser had in mind when he’d asked his best friend to watch over his little sister. And on top of that—given his audacity to even consider going against the bro-code in order to date a friend’s sister—a niggling of unworthiness held him back. But Jackie was special. He’d never met another woman with such a mix of passion and vulnerability. She stirred things in him, made him feel whole, needed.
He definitely wanted to pursue something with her. That wasn’t selfish of him, was it? Maybe a little… But the idea of getting to know her better on a deeper, more intimate level was something he couldn’t pass up. He had to at least try. Caution was key, however. The likelihood she would welcome interest from someone like him rivaled that of Snoopy becoming president.
A slow grin spread across his face, moderated somewhat by his uncertainty. He didn’t have a grand scheme for his life, but the time had come to start implementing a plan for his heart…wasn’t it?
***
Only having one hand meant he had to be creative in carrying things. And maybe foregoing some others. Like coffee. He could dangle the McDonald’s paper bag from the grip between his fingers and crutch, but trying to hold two cups of boiling hot coffee against his chest with the stump of his arm without sloshing it and giving himself third-degree burns was impossible. Which was why he cradled orange juice instead as he made his way into Jackie’s hangar.
Plastic shopping bags leaned against the far wall. Jackie stood to the side, a look of concentration on her face as she stared at two giant pieces of cardboard lying on the ground. What was she up to now?
“I brought breakfast.” He leaned the crutch
against the workbench and wiggled the food bag in the air. “Egg and cheese McMuffins.”
“Hash browns?”
“Of course.”
Jackie stepped around the cardboard and sank into a chair. Once he’d convinced her his presence would be a daily occurrence whether she thought he needed to be there or not, she’d produced a second chair.
“Sorry it’s nothing home cooked. My brother Adam would give me a royal hard time if he knew I brought a girl fast food.”
Jackie tucked a bite of the sandwich into her cheek. Most darling little chipmunk ever.
“Really? Why?”
Michael shrugged. “He’s a bit of a food snob. Only believes in quality ingredients.” He kissed his fingertips. “But what he can do with those ingredients? Magic.”
She swallowed her bite and took a drink of orange juice. “You have just the one brother?”
“Two brothers and a sister. Adam is the oldest. He’s a defense attorney in Florida. Then there’s Trent, the recently returned prodigal. I’m next in line, then my baby sister, Amber, who graduates high school in a couple of months.”
“When’s the last time you got to see them?”
He crumpled his wrapper and tossed it in the wastebasket. “They came and visited me while I was at Walter Reed after my surgeries.”
A strange look came over Jackie’s face, like she was trying to remember something or piece clues together. Her eyes widened. “Are your parents’ names George and Anita?”
His head reeled back. “How’d you know that?”
“Adam is a huge flirt, and your brother Trent is engaged to a pretty redhead.”
“Trent has more of the flirtatious reputation.” He paused. “Did you meet them? At Walter Reed? And Adam flirted with you?” Adam was dead for flirting with his girl. The fact she hadn’t been his girl then and wasn’t technically his girl now was irrelevant. D-E-A-D.
“Your mom invited me to sit with them in the cafeteria.”
“That sounds like Mom.” The ketchup packet ripped open between his teeth, and he squeezed some onto his hash browns. His chin lifted to the direction of the bags and cardboard. “What’s going on over there?”
