by Jina Bacarr
I squint through the window, the glass smudged with my glove prints, and see a woman waving down the bus, her tall, slim figure wearing wide, gray trousers and a flannel coat fitted with huge shoulder pads, her reddish hair covered with a white bandana.
I smile. It’s Mildred. The reverend’s wife.
Her blue pickup truck is parked in the middle of the road to stop traffic.
I see why. Nearby stands a tall, broad shouldered man swinging an axe, trying to bring down a magnificent fir tree. Mildred flagged us down to avoid an accident if the tree slams to the ground in our path. I bite my lip; this man makes my heart race. He possesses an intensity that demands my attention. Makes me quiver all over. I lean in closer, my hand going to my mouth. No, it can’t be. Can it?
The big strong man swings the axe easily, like it’s a candy cane. Only one man in town has brawn like that. Jeff. He’s taller than most men with muscles that ripple under his russet-tanned skin in the summer months. I never tire of watching his biceps bulge into big knots, especially when he grabs me around the waist, his smile so big and the man so sure of himself. When I can see that he wants to kiss me and pulls me close and twirls me around like a merry-go-round and I never want to get off.
His back is to me now, but even with the bulky wool of his jacket, I make out those broad shoulders. As he swings the axe, the scrape of metal biting into the thick tree, I note the back of his jacket is wet with the sweat of his labor. While I glory in the beautiful sight of him, he never stops until the grand fir tree topples over and lands with a loud thump. It hits the cold ground on a clear patch of earth off to the side of the road, its graceful branches swan diving down to earth with such precision, it takes my breath away. When he turns around, my jaw drops. I barely take him in without shuddering, my breath catching, my pulse racing so fast I suffer a sudden bout of lightheadedness. Oh, my God, he’s magnificent. I stare at him far too long, for the forces at play here didn’t prepare me for this moment. My brain goes into shock. He looks so young.
I forgot how young he is. Around twenty-two.
I don’t know why that comes as such a surprise to me. An uncomfortable feeling wiggles through me. I expected to see a tall, sexy man who will carry me away in his strong arms. Angular jaw, deep, sexy eyes. Hands that hold me tight. Don’t get me wrong, the young Jeff wielding that axe is a hunk of young manhood I’ll never forget, his body hard-toned and muscular. That indefinable confidence that comes with maturity isn’t there yet, only hinted at.
I sink deeper into my seat. Suddenly I feel old. How can I pull this off? It’s one thing to convince my family I’m the same girl I was back then, but Jeff knows me in a more intimate manner. The curve of my small waist, the girlish laughter that rings with my innocence, my hunger to learn how to kiss. I’ll never be able to duplicate that.
I can’t let that stop me. Losing him cast a shadow over my life and in one beautiful, shining moment every tear I shed, every pain to my heart mellows out and drips away like the holiest of oils seething through a sieve. I am that young girl again. My skin tingles with the bloom no face powder can give back when it fades. I don’t feel guilty for wanting to recapture my gregarious youth. While so many girls reach across the ocean with their thoughts to tell their man they love him, I reached across time. God put this man in my path and no way am I going to ignore that gift.
I have to see him… now. Ready or not, I stand up in my seat and walk to the rear exit of the bus. ‘Open the door. I’m getting off here.’
The driver shrugs, enjoying her power over me. ‘Nope. It’s not one of my stops.’
‘Please, Mrs Canton,’ I plead. ‘I need to get off this bus.’
‘Sit down. It’s my bus and you do what I say.’ She revs the engine several times, grumbling to herself, then grinds the gears, getting antsy while she waits for Mildred to move her truck.
I didn’t travel back in time to be thwarted by an overstuffed strudel.
I blow out my breath, count to ten. ‘I asked you nice, now I’m telling you,’ I say, losing my patience and my schoolgirl manners. ‘Open the door.’
Loud gasps. Coughing. More whispering.
‘You’re like the rest of them girls who work at the mill. You think you can have everything you want.’ She laughs like an evil cartoon character. ‘Well, you can’t.’
‘Mrs Canton, please—’
Mildred’s truck still blocks the road, but that’s not the issue. Sarah Canton is insufferable. She’s being obstinate because rumor has it her husband had romantic encounters with girls working at the factory. When she found out, he left her. I empathize with her feeling of loss, but I can’t condone her way of dealing with it. I have to do something. Fast.
‘I need to speak to Mildred.’ I search for a reason other than the truth. Not easy with every inch of my body on fire, sweat oozing up on the back of my neck, knowing I’m seconds away from reuniting with the man I loved and lost. This woman isn’t going to stop me.
‘What for?’ Mrs Canton says, egging me on.
Every passenger leans forward in her seat, waiting to hear my answer. I don’t disappoint them. Seeing the big fir tree gives me an idea. ‘We need a tree to decorate down at the mill to keep up company spirit during the holidays.’
‘Nope.’
My eyebrows shoot up. ‘You’d stop us from having a tree?’
Boos come from the ladies on the bus. Mrs Canton smiles, enjoying her revenge. ‘Yep.’
‘Fine,’ I say, baiting her. ‘Wait until I tell everybody down at the mill you don’t have any Christmas spirit, Mrs Canton… or should I call you Mrs Scrooge?’
She glares at me and I make another small rip in the fabric of my history. What I said is akin to saying she’s unpatriotic. By the loud whispers and approving looks in my direction, I have no doubt our run-in will be all over Posey Creek by noon. How I called her out and embarrassed her on a bus filled with mill workers and housewives going into town. The cold, hard stare she tosses at me tells me I won for now, but she’s not done with me. There’ll be a price to pay, her eyes say. I ignore the burning on my cheeks, as if she slapped me.
‘Go on then.’ The snippy driver opens the rear exit door. ‘I ain’t waiting for you. You’ll have to walk to work.’
I don’t hesitate, don’t bother with a flippant remark. I’m too excited. My heart pounds so hard in my chest, I can’t breathe as I jump off the bus and never look back. I hear her stall the engine, then restart it with a loud grinding of the gears as she maneuvers the bus around the fallen tree and takes off down the road, smoke pouring out of the exhaust.
All I see is my man. I can’t move. I’ve waited, dreamed for so long and now that I’m living the moment, I don’t know what to do. It feels as though the film’s stopped in the projector and it won’t start running again. I can’t hear the deep sound of his voice calling out to me, but I see the sudden light in his eyes when he catches the splash of my red coat. The way he looks at me, greeting me with a silent kiss, showering my spirit with lovely vibrations. I wait, holding my breath. If there’s a time when I’m afraid I’ll disappear as quickly as I came, this is it. When I don’t, I exhale from the pure joy of it and in an instant, my ears pop and my world comes alive again.
For the first time in twelve years.
14
My entire theory about why I’m here is put to a test when I run toward him. God help me, I forget about everything but him, his eyes smoldering with desire at the sight of my poor errant soul racing across the dirt road, breathing hard, my face shiny with sweat. Dolled up in my red coat with the fake fur collar, I must look like the red-hooded girl in the fairy tale. He can’t believe it.
‘Kate, what are you doing here?’ Jeff stares at me, a combination of both concern and need lighting up his face. The tenseness I saw moments before when he was swinging the axe is gone, his tall body slipping into the easygoing style I know so well. That certain swagger that says he’s happy to see me.
‘Jeff!’
I call out. My throat is so tight, my voice breaks. Only a deep guttural sound comes out. I rush into his arms, not caring if Mildred stares at us with her mouth open. I want his arms around me and for him never to let me go.
‘Hold on, Jelly Girl, I’ve only been gone for two days.’
‘Jeff… oh, Jeff, I can’t believe you’re here. I’m here.’ My lower lip trembles uncontrollably and the tears fall. It’s nothing compared to the intense, hot burn working its way up my body. I grab onto his jacket sleeve and feel his forearm flinch. I have to make sure he’s real. That moment spikes such a yearning in me, it sends every nerve in my body into a spasm. I fight hard to control it, lowering my head so he can’t see the hidden thoughts that must be so obvious in my eyes. That I’m in an ecstatic state of bliss, a deep need never to let him go building in my chest. I’m at my most vulnerable when I’m close to him and if I’m not careful, I’ll blurt out the whole, unbelievable truth about why I’m here and ruin everything.
I have to find the right moment, then tell him. Make him believe. Not yet.
He senses something is wrong in my world, but he doesn’t ask. An unseen bond between us kicks into gear as it has since we were kids. When one of us was sad or hurt but didn’t want to talk about it, we wouldn’t ask. We’d hold each other tight until the other got past the moment. For me, it was usually something silly, like I was late to school or Ma had scolded me for something dumb I did. For Jeff, it was more than likely his father. I always had a feeling the verbal abuse and hard demands he made upon him never stopped.
My heart slows finally, my head cradled against his chest, my lashes crunched together with dried tears. His jacket, chilled from the cold, soothes the burn on my cheeks so I calm down, deal with a situation no one should ever have to, the rediscovery of a lost love but knowing things will turn out the same if I don’t change it.
‘You’ll be late for work,’ he says in a low voice, his fingers rifling through my hair and sending my hat askew. I don’t make a move to fix it. The bus is gone, though I’m aware Mildred is doing her best not to notice his romantic gesture toward me. ‘If I had my way, I’d give you the day off so you could spend it with me.’
‘You know what Mr Clayborn says,’ I mumble, getting myself back together enough to tease him. ‘No one takes a day off until our soldiers come home.’
‘He’s right, Jelly Girl,’ Jeff says, serious, then he leads me away from the fallen tree to the other side of the road. ‘I guess he told you about my trip to Washington. The brass wanted to talk to me about a desk job.’
‘Your father’s idea, Jeff?’
He looks surprised. ‘No, my mother pulled some strings to get me the meeting. My father was dead set against it until she talked him into it. Reminding him we need someone in Washington to keep those government contracts coming in.’
‘Your mother?’ My mind takes a step back. This is news. ‘Why would she—’
You know why. She hates you. Didn’t she give Helen the third degree about you?
‘I didn’t take the job,’ he states flatly.
‘Why not?’ I grab his hand. A desk job will be dull, but he’ll be safe. ‘I can come up to Washington to see you. It’s only a two hour train ride once I get to Philly.’
‘I’m not a paper pusher, Kate. I want to do my part, fly bombers, and beat the crap out of those Nazis.’
His eyes bore into mine with a passion I can’t turn away from. Dark and moody, but not cloaked with a lie. I take a step back in my mind. What if Jeff is tapped for the job with the newly formed intelligence agency before he leaves for pilot training? He wouldn’t question why his orders came through that fast, but I bet his mother is behind it. The woman is a fool, thinking she’s sending her son to a desk job, not giving it a second thought – doesn’t she realize he could be sent overseas?
‘My father will have no choice but to hand over the everyday production duties of the mill to Timothy.’
I feel the frustration emanating from his body as we continue our conversation on the side of the country road. No traffic. Jeff isn’t pleased with the idea, but we both know the decision is made.
‘That won’t go over well with everyone on the floor,’ I warn him, then add with a smile. ‘Especially the ladies.’
‘I’m depending on you to keep the home fires burning, Kate. You can trust Mr Clayborn to help you.’
We get quiet for a moment, words unspoken. We both know it won’t be easy with Timothy running production. I intend to speak to my boss about what I know is coming in a subtle way and hopefully curtail the downfall of the company after the war. Which makes this seem like the appropriate time to tell Jeff what I came so far to say. ‘Jeff, there’s something I want to tell you.’ I keep my voice low.
‘No, me first.’ He pulls out a long envelope from inside his jacket pocket and smiles.
‘Can we go somewhere private?’ I interrupt, working up my nerve. As much as I like Mildred, I can’t let her know my secret. ‘This is important.’
‘More important than this?’ He pulls out two train tickets and wiggles them under my nose. ‘The 7.10 a.m. Standard Flyer to Washington on Monday next week.’
‘Jeffrey Rushbrooke, what are you talking about?’ I say, breathless. I feel my lips curl into a big smile, but I still need reassurance I didn’t change the timeline with my impetuousness.
‘I didn’t spend all my time hobnobbing with the brass.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, my heart racing.
‘I slipped away when my father was meeting with a special envoy from the War Production Board. I had a long talk with Judge Stevens. I swore him to secrecy, but the judge promised to marry us. We’ll spend two, maybe three days in Washington. I got us a hotel room, thanks to the judge’s brother-in-law, and we’ll be home on Christmas Eve to spend it with the family as Mr and Mrs Jeffrey Rushbrooke.’
‘Home on Christmas Eve… with the family.’ I can’t stop my hands from trembling as I stare at the train tickets, although my heart jumps with joy. This isn’t what I expected. Jeff didn’t mention train tickets and us eloping until the night of the holiday dance at the canteen. That’s on Saturday. December eighteenth. Four days from now. Did I change history without knowing it?
‘Aren’t you pleased?’ He runs his hands through his thick, dark hair. He doesn’t understand my hesitation.
‘Pleased?’ I gush, overwhelmed. ‘My Lord, Jeff, you have no idea. You’ve made me the happiest woman in the world.’
‘That’s my Jelly Girl,’ he says, hugging me and then putting the tickets back in his jacket pocket.
‘Hey, you two, time to celebrate later,’ Mildred calls out to us. How long has she been standing there? Quiet, still as a statue, and God help me, she heard every word. ‘We’ve got to load up the tree for the candle lighting ceremony.’ She’s grinning from ear to ear. The twinkle in her eye tells me she’s happy for us.
‘Gosh, Mildred, I don’t know what to say,’ I turn, my face flushed.
‘Don’t worry, honey.’ She lays her hand on my arm. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’
‘Thanks, Mildred, you know how I feel about Kate.’ Jeff kisses the tip of my nose. ‘She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.’
Then with a squeeze, he lets me go and drags the nearly seven foot tall fir tree to the back cargo area of Mildred’s half-ton truck.
I marvel at how easily Jeff handles himself, lifting the tree onto his wide shoulders and loading it into the truck, his dark hair falling into his eyes in such a sexy manner, I want to kiss him. He has no idea I haven’t felt his lips on mine in twelve years. I can’t wait much longer.
I pace up and down the side of the road, hoping he’ll be so shocked he won’t notice his Jelly Girl has learned a thing or two about kissing a man. I have no doubt I’ll be familiar with his hot kisses. How many nights have I stood with him on God’s acre of paradise under the cherry tree, his mouth pressed against mine? His breath warm, me digging my fingers into his sho
ulders to hold on because I’m so shaky inside, my knees buckle. A place where the stars drift like tiny boats in a sea of velvet.
I’d know his kisses anywhere, but this isn’t the moment to find out.
Not with Mildred sneaking peeks at us, her eyes misting over, as if she’s thinking about the reverend and remembering loving moments with him. Growing up, I was in awe of the powerful man with eyes the color of maple syrup swirling with questions. I can see why Mildred fell in love with the former boxer who found serving God and helping the needy a more fitting way to bring peace to his soul.
Mildred stayed strong when her husband went to war to guide and comfort servicemen with the word of God and fight alongside them. I adore the woman, admire her strength and gumption not to be a placid wife. She puts herself on the line and gives her church members the courage to keep going and lifts their spirits. She’s a true heroine in my eyes. More so now, knowing what she’ll go through before coming out on the other side even stronger. No one else but Mildred can bring our little town together for the holidays, working hard to set up the lighting ceremony with a tall Christmas tree in front of the community center for the soldiers when they come home on furlough. A place where they meet up with their friends, have a cup of coffee and cookies and someone to listen to them. Their families don’t understand the loneliness they feel or the close bond they have with their fellow soldiers. We can’t replace that, but we can listen.
Jeff looks at his wristwatch. The tree isn’t yet secure in the back of the truck, but he’s anxious to leave.
‘Mildred will drop you by the mill.’ He smiles at me, having no idea the torture he’s putting me through.
‘I’ll see you later?’ I ask, hopeful.
‘Not tonight, Kate. I’ve got to attend some social function my mother planned. Tomorrow, I promise.’ He helps me climb into the cab of the truck, my pumps tapping on the floorboard, a strange sensation underneath my feet. As if whatever force brought me here is warning me I don’t have much time. I ignore it.
