The Sky Above Us

by Sarah Sundin

Schmidt and Jansen stepped into her path.

  Violet stretched out her hand. “May we see? You can understand why, can’t you?”

  Millie blinked too fast, then she opened her bag and gasped. “Flour? Sugar? Who put that in there?”

  Jansen barked out a laugh. “Come off it. You mean to tell us you didn’t realize your bag was twenty pounds heavier?”

  A tear dribbled down Millie’s cheek. “It—it’s a gift for my mum. For Easter. You don’t know what it’s like, you Yanks with your sweets and your tea. You don’t even like tea. It isn’t fair.”

  Violet’s heart settled low in her belly. “That’s no excuse.”

  “Only once, I swear!”

  Kitty pointed to the counter. “Empty your bag and leave. And don’t return.”

  Violet pressed her hand to her belly. “So that’s why you brought that bag every day.”

  Millie dumped out the contents, shook the bag upside down, and glared at Violet. “I thought you cared about us, but you don’t. Keep this all to yourself. Be selfish. I don’t care. I never want to see this place again.”

  The girl stormed out of the Aeroclub with her empty bag.

  Violet sagged back against the counter. She’d caught the thief. Now Mr. Tate would see her innocence and restore her budget. But she felt awful.

  Kitty covered her mouth, and tears darkened her eyes. “I—I liked her. I trusted her.”

  Violet put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “I did too.”

  Then she turned her attention to men she’d neither liked nor trusted. “Thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate your help.”

  “Ah, it was nothing.” Jansen flapped a meaty hand. “Glad you caught her.”

  Schmidt shook his head. “Stealing from the Red Cross? How low can you get?”

  Violet offered a smile, weak but heartfelt. “Thank you.”

  But her mind reeled. The girl she’d longed to help had betrayed her, and the men she’d never wanted to help had defended her.

  With her free hand, she gripped her spinning head. How could she be a missionary when she was blinded by prejudices?

  26

  London, England

  Sunday, April 9, 1944

  “I can’t believe we celebrated Easter in Westminster Abbey.” Nick straightened his waist-length olive drab “Ike” jacket as the seven airmen crossed a busy London street.

  Adler cranked his head in all directions, watching for traffic as he did for Messerschmitts. He hopped onto the curb just as a black taxi whizzed past, whipping a breeze against Adler’s trousers. The men headed into yet another park. At least there weren’t any cars or buses in parks.

  “What did you think, Adler?” Nick eyed him as he had the last few days. He must have realized something was wrong, but he wasn’t probing. Yet.

  Adler wasn’t ready to be probed. Yet. He worked up a smile. “Incredible.” And it had been. The soaring ancient gray stone, the angelic choirboys, and history in every nook and cranny. If only the stained glass hadn’t been carted away to safety. But German air raids had returned to London in the “Little Blitz” the past few months, so it was just as well.

  “Where are we?” Luis Camacho peeked over Theo’s shoulder at the map.

  “Hyde Park,” Theo said.

  Adler, Nick, Theo, Floyd Miller—even Riggs—had attended the service at Westminster Abbey, while Cam and Rosario attended a Catholic Mass. After lunch, they’d seen the Thames, Parliament, the Horse Guards, St. James’s Park, Buckingham Palace, Green Park, and the Wellington Arch. All within less than two miles.

  Unbelievable.

  Nick kicked a pebble on the tree-lined path. “Almost makes up for not being home.”

  Adler had been working so hard to keep up his spirits and not spoil his buddies’ fun, he forgot his best buddy might be missing his family. He nudged Nick’s shoulder. “Imagine their faces when the Easter Bunny visits.”

  Nick gave him a grateful smile. The men had taken a snapshot of Nick in his getup and were having it developed in the base photo lab. Soon, Nick would mail it home.

  Wistfulness lowered Nick’s smile. “Last Easter I was home on leave after little Gail was born. Now she’s walking. I can’t even picture it.”

  “Yeah.” What would it be like? The men who were fathers missed watching their children grow and change and do things for the first time. It had to be hard on their wives too, raising kids alone and worrying about their husbands at war.

  They passed a bandstand on the right and flower gardens on the left. Towering trees spanned the path, green branches against the gray sky.

  “Where to next?” Floyd asked Theo. Floyd had taken Mulroney’s slot in the squadron, and he fit right in. No grandstanding, and he’d informed Schumacher, the public relations officer, that he wasn’t a circus sideshow but a pilot serving his country.

  Theo studied the map as they walked. “There’s a lake straight ahead, the Serpentine. The ladies at the Jules Club said we could rent boats.”

  Thank goodness Theo had been eager to get the map. Adler preferred not to interact with the workers at the American Red Cross service club. The workers in uniforms just like Violet’s.

  Too many couples strolled along, making moony faces at each other.

  Adler looked away through the trees and across a wide lawn. Little kids chased a squirrel, an elderly couple fed pigeons, and men shouted over a cricket game. A family ambled along an approaching path—a middle-aged gentleman walking a black Scottie dog, and the man’s son and daughter, both in naval uniform. Maybe they were husband and wife—no, boyfriend and girlfriend. The way the man was looking at that pretty redhead.

  The young man . . . Adler glanced over his shoulder as the two paths converged.

  If Adler didn’t know better, he’d think the fellow was Wyatt.

  He laughed at himself and peered at the lake up ahead. Ridiculous. Wyatt was no naval officer, and he certainly wasn’t British.

  Three young ladies sashayed past in Easter finery.

  Adler’s friends unleashed earsplitting whistles.

  “Hiya, doll-face.” Riggs swaggered toward them. “Which one of you gets the honor of taking a boat ride with me?”

  “No, thank you.” The brunette in the middle gave him a teasing look. “We’ll find sailors. I’ve seen the way you blokes fly.”

  The men laughed and punched Riggs in the shoulder. Adler joined in and was glad to see Nick laughing too.

  The girls went their way, the laughter died, and the lake appeared, covered with boats, ducks, and even swans.

  “Wyatt? What’s the matter?” An Englishwoman’s voice floated into his ear from behind. “Wyatt?”

  Adler stopped, his brain thick and slow. It couldn’t be.

  He turned around.

  The redhead and the gentleman with the Scottie stood with their backs to him, and the naval officer strode away, his head down.

  Adler’s heart and lungs failed to work. He knew that walk, that build, that sandy hair.

  The man’s arms swung hard, flashing gold stars and two gold stripes on navy blue sleeves. An American naval officer.

  Wyatt. Running away from Adler. Again.

  His chest crushed under the weight of it. The last time Wyatt had seen him, Adler had been holding a rock over his head.

  Of course he ran.

  Wyatt grabbed onto a water fountain, his shoulders slumped.

  Adler wheeled around. All the men were farther down the path, except Nick, who was staring at him.

  Adler strode as hard as Wyatt had and motioned for Nick to join him.

  “What’s the matter?” Nick asked.

  He caught up to the others and gripped his belly. “Say, fellas. I reckon I got a bad piece of fish. I’m heading back to the Jules Club. Nick’s coming with me. See y’all later.”

  Cam frowned at him. “You look awful, amigo.”

  “You have no idea.” Almost a dozen paths intersected at the hub, and Adler charged down one to the left, away
from his friends and from Wyatt, a narrower path, more concealed, a bit curving, the foliage close to the edges.

  Nick followed him. “Your stomach’s fine.”

  No fooling that man. He waited until he was far enough away. “I saw my brother.”

  “Clay? Again?”

  “No. My older brother, Wyatt. He—he’s a naval officer. What on earth is he doing here?” He swatted a low-hanging branch.

  “You’re running from him?”

  “He’s running from me. I’m giving him the distance he wants.”

  “Turn around. Turn around right now.”

  Adler continued marching, the lake flashing to his right between trees and bushes. “He hates me. He—he’s afraid of me. I tried to kill him, for heaven’s sake. He doesn’t want to see me, and I won’t make him.”

  Somehow Nick’s short legs matched Adler’s pace. “I thought Wyatt was working for your folks.”

  “He is. He was. That’s what he’s supposed to be doing. The trucking business is vital to the war effort. He should have been deferred. Daddy needs him.” That meant not one of the Paxton boys was in Kerrville.

  “You haven’t heard back from your folks?”

  “It’s only been three, four weeks.” The street came into view, but Adler wasn’t ready. He aimed for a bench. “What if I did this? What if my actions drove Wyatt and Clay to enlist?”

  “A lot of men have—”

  “You know why so many Americans are over here.” Adler collapsed onto the bench, his elbows on his knees. “D-day. It’s coming. Clay’s a soldier. Wyatt—he’s in the Navy. They’re going into danger. If I put them there, my parents will never forgive me.”

  Nick stood in front of him. “Your brothers are grown men. They can make up their own minds.”

  He ripped off his cap and dug his hands into his hair, breathing hard. “Even if my parents forgive me, how can they trust me? They saw me with Ellen. They saw everything.”

  “You’re a new man. The old man is gone.”

  “Is he?” Adler looked up at his friend, his hands clamped around the back of his neck. “That old man was out in full force the other night. I kissed Violet. I kissed her.”

  Nick’s mouth scooted around, dangerously close to a smirk, and he toed a clump of grass in front of the bench. “New men kiss women. How do you think I got a baby girl?”

  Adler bit off an old-man cuss. “It’s not the same.”

  Nick ran his hand along his jaw. “I don’t think I ever told you this. I kissed Peggy on our first date. She slapped me.”

  “She gave you a second date?”

  “What can I say? She liked the kiss. She just couldn’t let me get away with it so early.”

  So Saint Nick had a weakness. “Well, I’ll be.”

  “Did Violet slap you?”

  “I wish she had.”

  “Why? What did she do to you?”

  “She kissed me back.” He groaned.

  “Most men wouldn’t complain.”

  Adler flopped back on the bench and stretched out his legs. “Don’t you see? Remember all those reasons I shouldn’t get involved with her? None of those have gone away.”

  “Sounds like you’re already involved.”

  “I shouldn’t be. Look at me. I slept with my brother’s girlfriend. I can’t be trusted around women.”

  Nick sat on the bench. “Did you ever cheat on Oralee?”

  “No, never.”

  “Did you—did you sleep with her?”

  “No, but not for lack of trying. I pushed, but she always pushed back harder.” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “I don’t know Violet well, but she seems like the kind of woman who’d push back. Trust her. More importantly, trust your new self not to push her in the first place.”

  Could he? He filled his cheeks with air. That drive was strong. But so was the drive to be ace, and he’d learned to control that.

  Adler blew out that air. “That doesn’t change the fact that she wants to be a missionary, and I want to be a businessman.”

  “Have you talked to her about that?”

  “No. I . . . ran.” Adler leaned forward and plopped his face into his hands. That was what he did whenever something went wrong.

  Even today. What if he’d run to Wyatt instead of away? It could have been bad. Hot words. Cold rejection. Fists flying. By running, he’d avoided that.

  But by running, he’d also missed his chance to apologize, to seek forgiveness, maybe even to reconcile.

  Adler twisted his head to face his friend. “It’s time I stopped running.”

  27

  Leiston Army Airfield

  Tuesday, April 11, 1944

  Sylvia Haywood poured oil into the donut-making machine. “Thank you for letting us keep the cabinets unlocked now. It’s much more convenient.”

  “Only when you, as a supervisor, are in the kitchen.” Violet scanned the log. Everything looked fine.

  “I still can’t believe Millie—” Sylvia wiped her hands on a rag. “I’ve known her since she was in nappies.”

  “I can’t believe it either.” At least Mr. Tate had, and he’d praised Violet and Kitty. But that praise didn’t ease the pain of Millie’s betrayal.

  “Poor Griff. The lad’s heartbroken.”

  “I know.” Violet had feared she’d lose her close connection to the base motor pool. Many Aeroclub directors struggled to obtain jeeps and trucks. “It was sweet of him to offer to still help us. He said he refused to punish us for Millie’s crimes.”

  “Good. I’d hate to lug donuts around by pushcart again.”

  “Me too.” Violet headed out into the dining area. This evening the Aeroclub was buzzing. The Yoxford Boys had earned a whopping twenty-three victories over Germany that day.

  Less than a week since she and Adler had parted ways, and the sense of disconnection tugged at her.

  All looked well in the dining area, so she headed down the hallway to check on the recreation rooms.

  A man stepped out of the library and almost bumped into her.

  “There you are.” Adler. He raised a casual smile as if nothing had happened between them. “Do you have time to talk?”

  She gaped at him, suddenly tired of the pushing and pulling. “I’m working.”

  He sobered. “Half an hour. Fifteen minutes.”

  “I only need a few seconds to say what’s on my mind.” She kept her voice cool and polite, surprised at the conviction solidifying in her heart. “Every time we get close, you push me away. I—I’m done.”

  His cheek twitched, his eyes sad then apologetic then hardening with conviction equal to hers. “I won’t do that ever again. Fifteen minutes. Please?”

  She slammed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t be swayed.

  “Only a few fellows in the library. We could talk there.”

  One fellow would be too many. A walk would be private, but too romantic. “The office.”

  She marched around the corner, into the office, and sat behind the desk.

  Adler shut the door and sat across from her. Unromantic, down to the desk between them.

  Violet remained silent and expressionless. He was the one who wanted to talk.

  Only he didn’t. He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the cap in his grip. His blond hair was neatly slicked, and his jaw was tinged pink as if he’d just shaved—in the evening? He wore his dress uniform rather than his flight jacket, the tailored waist-length wool jacket accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and trimness of his torso.

  Had he dressed up for her?

  His jaw worked, and his distress weakened her resolve.

  Violet shifted to make her chair creak and remind him his fifteen minutes was ticking.

  Adler’s chest puffed out, and he looked her full in the eye. “I came here to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

  Her breath caught.

  He held up one hand. “Before you answer, we need to talk about two big things. Before th
at, you need to know I’m done running. I won’t run from pain, and I won’t run from joy.”

  Was that why he’d run from her? A fear of joy? Her heart stretched to him, so she dragged her gaze to Elsa on her desk, the little elephant’s wood and essence springing from African soil. “It could never work. You’re a businessman. I want to be a missionary.”

  “That’s one of the two big things to discuss. You see, I’m not like most of the men here. They like to date around. But Oralee and I were together seven years. I’m not interested in a little . . .” He waved one hand around.

  “Fling?” A pinprick of guilt.

  “Yeah. That’s fine for fellows who don’t know what they’re looking for. But I do.”

  He was looking for . . . her? Violet wrapped her arms around her stomach to hold herself together, to bind up that crumbling conviction.

  Adler pointed one finger back and forth between them. “If this is going to work, God has to change one of our minds. I’m willing. Are you?”

  Violet’s mind spun in new and wonderful directions. “You’re willing to be a missionary?”

  He mashed his lips together and jerked his head to the side. “I don’t want to, but I asked God to make me willing if that’s what he wants.”

  He would do that for her? For the Lord?

  Adler tossed his cap onto the desk. “Nick and I had leave in London this weekend. I told him I was too big a sinner to be a missionary. He said the Apostle Paul called himself the chief of sinners, and he was the greatest missionary in history. If God could work with Paul, he can work with me.”

  Violet’s jaw quivered at the sacrifice he was willing to make, and she covered her mouth. “Oh, Adler.”

  He raised that finger again. “This would have to go both ways. You’d have to be willing to let God change your mind too. It’s only fair.”

  Could she ask God such a thing? To make her willing to abandon the mission field? But if the Lord asked, she couldn’t argue with him. She lowered her hand. “All right.”

  His eyebrows lifted, and his mouth parted. Then he leaned both arms on the desk and leveled a strong gaze at her. “We’d both have to promise to ask God to change one of our minds. We’d both have to promise to be willing to be the one with the changed mind. And we’d both have to promise not to try to change the other’s mind.”