A Memory Between Us (32 page)

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“I’m glad God never gave up on you.” She flung her arms around his neck and burrowed kisses into his cheek.

Over her shoulder, Charlie’s eyes widened. “You still love me?”

“Of course. Of course.”

He stumbled under her kisses, and a man dashed from the corner to support him. “Careful, May. He’s still weak. He’s had a rugged run of it.”

Oh goodness, it was Jack. Ruth’s heart seized, and she grasped the doorjamb.

Charlie laughed. “Back off, Skipper. For four months I dreamed of this moment.”

Jack guided them toward the window. “At least take this moment to a chair.”

Charlie eased himself down, May sat on his lap, and they kissed and murmured their love to each other.

Airy bubbles lifted Ruth’s chest, but Jack’s presence stirred them into a frenzy. She glanced down the corridor. Charlie and May needed privacy, and she needed to get away.

“Come here, Ruth.” Charlie grinned at her, one arm stretched out.

Her escape would have to wait. Ruth smiled and crossed the room, conscious of Jack in the back corner of the room, and she hugged Charlie. “I can’t believe it. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“Isn’t this wonderful?” May said.

Ruth straightened up and squeezed May’s hand, overcome by the joy on the face of the person who deserved it most.

“Look at you two. Flight nurses.” Charlie played with May’s curls. “And look at your hair, Shirley Temple.”

“I’m also learning to tap dance.” She put one finger under his drooping chin. “But don’t you dare talk about me. Last I heard you were in a flat spin. Jack said it was impossible to get out.”

“I’ve never been so glad to be wrong in my life,” Jack said.

“What happened?”

Charlie bobbed his head from side to side. “Ah, I’m no good at telling stories. Jack, you’ve heard it a hundred times. You tell it.”

“Sorry, buddy. It’s your story.”

Ruth shot him a glance. It wasn’t like Jack Novak to shun the limelight. He stood against the wall with a smile aimed at Charlie, but then his gaze flicked to Ruth. His smile sputtered, his shoulders slumped, and he looked down.

The regret in his eyes turned her insides to mush. She knew shame and so did he, but she knew forgiveness. He should too.

“Oh, all right,” Charlie said. “Pull up a chair, Ruth.”

She couldn’t get away, but she did want to hear his story after all. She rotated the chair in front of Lieutenant Shepard’s desk, a chair she knew too well, and faced Charlie.

“Flat spin,” May said. “Impossible to get out.”

“Pretty much. You can’t pull away from the fuselage, but with great effort, you can slide along it.” Charlie frowned. “The copilot was injured, and I headed back to the cockpit to help Silverberg. A shell hit the nose, almost blew away the Plexiglas, and I went back to investigate. The navigator was—he was killed. The next shell hit the tail, sent us into a spin. I didn’t think I could make it out. The cloud level was six, seven thousand feet, and by the time I got to the hole in the nose, we were in pea soup. Then it sure took some wriggling to get out. Yanked that rip cord as soon as I got clear. We mustn’t have been high, because I wasn’t in my chute long. Never saw the ground in the fog. Landed hard and broke my leg.”

“Oh, Charlie!” May sprang from his lap.

He pulled her back down. “Other leg.”

Ruth leaned forward on her knees. “How on earth did you evade with a broken leg?”

Charlie chuckled. “Believe me, that wasn’t my plan, but it was my patriotic duty to try. The Lord plopped me ten feet from a haystack, so I dragged myself and my chute inside. Never been so itchy in my life. At nightfall I worked my way to the farmhouse. Turns out the family had helped several Allied airmen evade. Of course, when they saw my condition, they wanted to turn me in.”

May stroked his hair. “Thank goodness you talked them out of it.”

Charlie laughed and squeezed her waist. “I didn’t. I told them it was a wise idea. If they turned me in, the Nazis would think they were loyal, which would make it easier to help other evadees. Well, they just stared at me. Guess my dad taught me passable Dutch. By sunrise, we had it worked out. I became their simpleton cousin from town, who fell down a ladder and broke his leg.”

“Simpleton?” May asked with a laugh.

“Explained my funny accent and limited vocabulary. Not a hard part for me to play, huh, Skipper?”

Jack, however, only let out a low chuckle.

Ruth resisted the urge to glance his way, which would increase their mutual discomfort.

“They got me clothes and papers, called in a doctor to set my leg, gave me some simpleton chores, and let me heal for two months. Those people risked their lives for me, gave up food for me, and they don’t get enough as is. The Nazis haul away all the food from Holland’s farms to the Fatherland. The Germans get fat, and the Dutch starve.”

“Are they okay?” May asked. “Did they get caught?”

“Not that I know. They sent me off with the Resistance in December. Traveled mostly at night, but sometimes on the train with the Gestapo. The hardest part was hiking over the Pyrenees into Spain in the snow. I almost gave up, but you kept me going, May.”

“Me?” She sat up straight in his lap. “Not me. The Lord.”

“Yes, he strengthened me, but you motivated me. God would always be with me, but if I wanted to see you anytime soon, I had to plow forward.”

“Oh, darling.” May leaned her forehead against Charlie’s, and her cheeks glistened.

Ruth sighed. They deserved this tender reunion, and now they deserved some privacy. One deep breath, and she stood to face Jack. “Why don’t we give them some time alone?”

His eyebrows jumped, but then he motioned for her to lead. She left the office, and as soon as they stepped out into the cool air and the door shut behind them, Jack’s footsteps halted. He’d given her the opportunity to return to quarters—tempting, but not what she needed to do.

Ruth turned and gave Jack her best attempt at a smile. “I can’t believe Charlie’s back. How amazing.”

Jack’s eyebrows leaped again. He blinked. “Yeah.”

“I’m so happy for him and for May.”

“Me too.” He huffed and looked away. “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I know this is difficult for you, but Charlie’s not up to full strength, and the doc insisted someone had to come with him, and Charlie insisted it had to be me.”

Ruth regarded his stiff posture and pained expression. The poor man had punished himself for months. He shouldn’t have to suffer eight years as she had. The last residue of her anger melted away. “I’m glad you came. I need to tell you I forgive you.”

One more shock and Jack’s eyebrows would fly from his head. “Huh?”

“I forgive you,” she said. “Besides, I can understand why you were so angry with me. I can imagine how shocked, how hurt—”

“No.” He locked eyes with her. “Don’t justify what I did. It was wrong. Wrong and cruel. What you did—how was it any different than a kissing booth at the county fair? And you were young. You wanted to take care of—”

“Don’t justify what I did either. It was also wrong.” She lifted her chin in challenge. “I didn’t trust God to provide for my family, and I took advantage of those boys. Wrong.”

For a long time they stared each other down. She absorbed his remorse and mercy and reflected it back to him.

“Forgiveness doesn’t require approval,” she said. “God never approves of sin, but he still forgives us.”

Jack nodded without breaking his gaze. “True.”

Ruth glanced at the Nissen hut. Charlie and May would be a while. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

“A walk? I—I’d like that, but you—just because you forgave me doesn’t mean you have to spend time with me.”

She kept her gaze on the office window. “What if I want to? I missed you, you goon.”

A laugh tumbled from his mouth. “Goon? You’re the only one who insults me as well as my brothers do.”

Ruth turned back, which was a mistake. She’d forgotten how disturbingly gorgeous his grin was.

“If you’re willing to put up with me,” he said, “why don’t you show me the town?”

“All right.” She indicated the way. The sky spread pale blue above them, striped with white contrails. Ruth folded her arms to combat the cold penetrating the gray blue wool of her jacket. Trousers were warmer than stockings, but she still felt uncomfortable wearing them into town.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Jack asked about the flight nursing program. At first Ruth related the academic subjects, drills, and training. As she relaxed, she told him about Dottie and Sergeant Sadistic and Burnsey, but only how the technician slowed her down.

They reached the edge of town, and Jack talked of his trip home, his failures, and his faults. He had changed. They both had. Ruth couldn’t decide if she had renewed an old acquaintance or made a new one.

She stopped at the intersection where Monkton Street became Main Street and showed Jack the Prestwick Town Hall with its Gothic stone spire, the ancient Mercat Cross, and the Boydfield Gardens across the street. Jack wanted to see the beach, so Ruth led him down Station Road.

At the Esplanade along the shore, they stood on the grass and gazed across the sand to the Firth of Clyde and beyond to the Isle of Arran, the “Sleeping Giant.” Three children in thick creamy wool sweaters played tag with the waves while their mother scolded them not to get wet. A group of teenagers jostled one another and tried to push a red-haired boy into the icy bay. He broke free and grabbed one of the girls as a laughing, screaming hostage.

“I never told you why I prefer sky to sea.” Below Jack’s mustache, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Makes sense for a pilot.”

He shook his head once, his gaze fixed on the ocean. “When I was fourteen, I tried to swim across the San Joaquin River to show off for the girls. I was certain I could do it. I couldn’t. I almost drowned.”

“Oh my.”

“I haven’t swum since.”

The sea breeze blew hair in Ruth’s face, and she pushed it back to see Jack as he was, imperfect and wounded. “That’s why you didn’t want to go on the boat in London.”

He turned to her, his eyes a blend of the blue sky above and the gray sea beyond. “That’s why I made the decision over Schweinfurt.”

Her breath caught halfway in. “I don’t understand.”

“I plotted a longer route to avoid the Rhine Delta and the Zuider Zee, because I’d rather crash in flames than drown.”

“Oh, Jack.”

“Twenty-six men died, thirteen are POWs, and Charlie—you heard what he went through—because of my fear and pride.”

“I’m sure—I know Charlie’s forgiven you.”

“I haven’t told him yet.”

“He’ll understand.” To break the intensity of his gaze, Ruth glanced down. Once again her hand was wrapped around her watch. “I never told you how I got the scar.”

“On your wrist?”

She nodded and rubbed the leather. “For my twelfth birthday my parents gave me a watch, when Pa still had his job. I loved that watch. I also—I used it to time the lessons.” Shame rushed like bile up her throat. She swallowed it and ventured a glance at Jack.

His face went limp, and his eyes grew hazy. “Oh boy. If I’d known, I never would have bought—”

“No, I’m glad you did. You—you filled a hole, something those men took from me.”

“What? They stole your watch? After what they did to you?”

“No, they broke it. That’s—that’s how I got the scar.”

“Ruth.” His eyes slipped shut. His arms were folded, and he kneaded his upper arms with his fingers.

Four months ago he would have taken her in his arms, and to her alarm, that’s where she wanted to be.

Jack’s eyes flew open, his jaw set. “Please give me another chance.”

Ruth edged back. Another chance? What was he thinking?

“I promised never to leave you alone, and then I left in the worst possible way. And I promised I wouldn’t kiss you, and I never even meant it.” He let out an angry laugh. “I was so full of myself. I thought you’d beg me for a kiss. What a crock.” He whipped his gaze to the ocean.

Ruth could still feel his embrace and his breath on her neck. She wrapped her arms around her middle. “It’s all right. You—you cared for me, and you didn’t know.”

“Now I know.” He shook his hand at the sea. “It’s like—a kiss for you is like a dunk in the ocean for me. I understand now. I do.”

“I know you do,” she whispered.

Jack stepped closer, his face earnest. “Do you see? I could never do that to you again. Never.”

Ruth stared up at him, struck again by his power and his security. She knew what she had to say, but it took an extreme act of will to open her mouth. “I trust you.”

His eyes brimmed. “You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever known, Penelope Ruth Doherty.”

Her heart jumped and stalled. He’d never called her by her full name before. He accepted her, all of her, past and present.

40

Bury St. Edmunds Airfield

Monday, March 6, 1944

Flashbulbs popped, movie cameras whirred, and reporters jostled for position beside Jack’s plane. “So, Major, how’s Berlin?”

Jack shrugged. “I’m ashamed to say, but we left it in worse condition than we found it.”

That got a laugh. More cameras snapped. “The first big strike on the German capital. How’s that—”

“The first big
American
strike. The RAF has been hitting Berlin since the Blitz. However, they haven’t bombed during the day in over a year.” He held up his gloved hand. “But now Hitler will get no rest from Allied bombs, day or night.”

The reporters scribbled, flipped pages, and nodded.

The last week in February, the Eighth pummeled German aircraft factories. “Big Week” was now followed by a visit to the “Big B.” Air superiority had once seemed an elusive dream, but now Jack smelled it. Soon they’d grasp it and never let go.

With rapid speech and staccato laughter, Jack’s crew shed harnesses and life vests. He, too, felt as if he’d downed six cups of coffee. What a historic mission. Too bad Charlie missed it, but he was done with combat and on assignment with the Pathfinder Squadron at Alconbury. Knowing Charlie, he would have sung from the Spike Jones hit, “Der Fuehrer’s Face.”