In Perfect Time (23 page)

Roger’s leg jostled. He glanced down the aisle of the church and at his watch. Again. Kay had been gone twenty-two minutes. She should have been back by now.

Had something happened to her?

He couldn’t just sit there. He leaned closer to Mike Elroy. “Be right back.”

After Mike nodded, Roger slinked down the aisle and out of the church. Let them think he was rude, overcome by grief, had to go to the latrine. What did it matter? Kay needed him.

Out in the drizzle, he jammed his cap on his head and stuffed his Bible inside his service jacket to keep it dry. He strode down the street, around the corner, past the
boulangerie
, onto the side street.

There was Kay.

A sigh rushed from his lungs. Thank goodness, she was okay.

Or was she? She marched down the street, head down, arms swinging. With each step, her skirt snapped into a thin line between her knees.

“Kay?”

She looked up, pushed her hair off her face, and swayed a bit.

What happened? He ran up to her. “You all right?”

She shook her head and pressed her hand over her garrison cap.

He wanted to fold her in his arms, but instead he laid one hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter? Where’s your Bible?”

“My . . .” She looked over her shoulder to her house. “I forgot all about it after—” She clamped her mouth shut.

“After what? What happened? Someone hurt you?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“So, what—”

In one second flat, her expression switched from dazed to determined. “You always give me good advice.”

“I do?”

“Yes, and I need advice.” She headed down the street. “Come on. We need to go somewhere private to talk.”

What could be more dangerous than privacy with a gorgeous redhead?

Kay stopped and motioned to him. “Come on.”

“We should—we should go back to the church.”

“They don’t need us, and I need to talk to you right now.”

Roger shifted from one foot to the other. “Your friends will worry.”

She continued on her way, ordering him forward with a flap of her hand over her shoulder. “I hope they don’t look for me at quarters. They’ll be in for a rude shock. Except Mellie apparently.” She huffed.

Roger sent a groan heavenward and followed the nurse.
Your
idea,
Lord.
Not
mine.

Catching up wasn’t easy at her skirt-snapping pace. In a few minutes they reached the Étang de l’Olivier. Alone.

Roger sat on a rock and pulled out his drumsticks to look casual. “What’s up?”

Kay paced in front of him, one hand wrapped around her slender waist, the other bracing her pretty chin. “Your friend Shell’s married, right?”

“Right.”

“What would you do if you caught him with another woman?”

One drumstick dropped to the dirt. “Shell?”

She waved her hand in front of her face. “Not Shell. Not him, of course. It’s Vera.”

He groped on the ground for his drumstick. “She’s married?”

“No.” She looked at him as if he were daft. “I caught her with Captain Maxwell.”

“And he’s married?”

“Yes.” She resumed her pacing.

Roger let out a low whistle. “He’s her commanding officer too.”

“Sort of. Not really. He’s the surgeon for our flight of six nurses, but Lieutenant Lambert’s in charge of the nurses and Major Guilford over the whole squadron.”

“Still, he’s in a position of authority.”

Her head sagged back. “I can’t believe it. Vera and I have been friends for years. I never thought she was that kind of woman. Oh my goodness! I bet this has been going on since we trained at Bowman Field. That was two years ago. I feel sick.”

“Yeah.” He always felt sick when someone fell into temptation. It could easily be him.

Kay stood right in front of him. “What should I do?”

“Do?” He rolled the drumsticks in his moist hands. For once, no rhythm came to him.

“Should I report them to Lambert and Guilford when we get back to Rome?”

“I—”

She charged down to the water, back again, gaze fixed on the trees over Roger’s head. “If I report them, will I look like a good leader, someone who can deal with tough issues and discipline those under my command? Will Lambert think I’m responsible? Or will she think I’m coldhearted? Vera will hate me, Alice too. Unity? There won’t be any. How can I destroy what little unity we have? And what will I look like? Will I look like a good leader or just like a woman scheming to look like a good leader?”

Roger stared at her, clutched his drumsticks, and sorted through her mountain of words. “Well—”

Kay let out a cry and shook her fists in front of her chest. “What is wrong with me? Why am I even thinking about what I look like? Who cares! Only one thing matters—doing the right thing. Right?”

“Um, right.”

She stomped up to him. “So what’s the right thing to do?”

He stared up into her pleading face. How could he offer advice when he was about five minutes behind in her monologue?

She plopped down onto the rock beside him, her hip pressed to his. “If I report them, I’ll have to report Mellie too, because she knew and didn’t say a thing.”

He edged away a bit. Any farther and he’d fall off. “Mellie knew?”

“Yes.” She turned blazing eyes to him. “She’s a Christian. She should know better.”

Roger shrugged. “Christians still sin.”

Kay collapsed forward, elbows on her knees, head in her hands. She looked so small, so defeated, so confused. Her red-blonde hair hung in damp strands around her neck.

More than anything, Roger wanted to pull her into his arms, or stroke her hair, or something. He had to comfort her. The turmoil made his legs jiggle.

For heaven’s sake, what kind of friend was he? He jammed his drumsticks inside his jacket and rubbed her back, up and down, same as he’d do for one of his sisters. “You trust Mellie, right?”

“I used to.”

“She must have had her reasons. Maybe she couldn’t say anything—her word against theirs. Ask her.”

Kay sat still, silent, and he stroked her back, her shoulders, warm and firm and soft all at the same time. Made him want her even more, but it seemed to soothe her.

“Can you ever be good enough?” Her voice came out small and weak.

“What?” This conversation gave him vertigo.

She sat up, dislodging his hand but engaging his eyes. “Mellie’s a Christian and she ignored adultery. Georgie’s a Christian and she breaks the fraternization rules. Can you ever be good enough?”

Part of him wanted to lie to make her feel better, but truth won out. “No, you can’t.”

Kay groaned and sank down over her knees again. “What hope do I have? How can I ever be good enough to get the job I want, or a—a house, or—or—” Her voice broke, and her shoulders shook.

Oh boy. This ran deeper than grief and betrayal and indecision. “You’re listening to the wrong voice, kid. That’s your earthly father talking, not your heavenly Father.”

“What?” She sat up and shoved stringy hair off her reddened face.

How could she look so beautiful when she was a mess? He faced the lake, gripped both knees, and wrestled his thoughts into words. “Remember when I told you God’s mercy was a gift? You don’t earn forgiveness by being good. He gives it because he’s good.”

“Yes, but this is—”

“No, it’s not different. Now we’re talking about God’s grace. He gives us good things not because we’re good, but because he’s good.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Her face glistened with tears and rain.

Roger yanked his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “What did you do to deserve this handkerchief? Nothing. I gave it to you because you’re my friend.”

Her smile wobbled, and she blotted her face. “Thanks.”

“God isn’t like a candy machine. We can’t insert a good deed and receive a blessing. Then we’d be in charge, not him.”

Her gaze darted around, nowhere near his face. “Okay. All right.”

“If he gives you the chief nurse job, it’s not because you did something good, but because he loves you and wants what’s best for you. And if he doesn’t give you the chief nurse job, it’s not because you did something bad, but because he loves you—and something else would be better for you.”

“Oh . . .” Her gaze returned to him, bright with comprehension.

In the mirror of her eyes, his words reflected back to him. God could choose to give him gifts too, no matter what Roger had done in the past. God could choose to give him Kay’s love, even if he didn’t deserve it.

That thought stuck like a rock in his throat. He swallowed it and lurched to his feet. “Say, we’d better get back before they drag the lake looking for us.”

“Oh dear.” She gathered her hair over one shoulder. “I look a mess.”

The perfect opportunity to slice the romance out of the moment. He grinned. “No kidding. Drowned rats have nothing on you.”

She gasped, stood, and gave him a playful punch in the arm. “Some friend you are.”

He led the way up the embankment. “Hey, I gave you advice and a hankie. You expect a compliment on top of that?”

“Not from the likes of you.”

“Don’t you ever forget it.” He glanced behind him to shining, kissable Kay. Fragile Kay. Some gifts were too precious to open.

27

Istres
November 10, 1944

Kay fluffed Mellie’s bridal veil over her shiny black hair. “You look absolutely gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” Mellie had turned out to be as innocent as her pure white gown. Kay had confronted her, and Mellie told the whole story. Over a year before, she’d stumbled upon Vera and Maxwell kissing, but they’d threatened her into silence. When the threat resolved, Mellie demonstrated her forgiveness by extending mercy and not reporting them.

“Tom will do cartwheels down the aisle when he sees you.” Georgie wove her needle through Mellie’s hem in some unnecessary repair.

“I just wish . . . I wish . . .” Mellie’s voice warbled.

Kay grabbed her friend’s shoulder. “No blubbering. You’ll ruin your makeup.”

Regardless, tears glistened on Mellie’s thick lashes. “I wish Papa could be here.”

“Oh, honey!” Georgie enfolded her in a hug.

Kay whipped out her handkerchief and blotted her friend’s tears before they could leave trails in her face powder. Mellie’s father had been trapped in the Philippines when the Japanese
invaded and was interned in a prison camp for civilians. Poor Mellie had only received three postcards in the past two and a half years. “No tears. Your father will be thrilled for you. Tom’s a wonderful man.”

“He—he is. But Tom’s mother. She should be here too. He’s her only child.”

“It’s wartime, honey.” Georgie patted her back. “We have to make do. You don’t want to wait any longer to marry Tom, do you?”

Mellie sniffled, blinked, and stood up straight. “No, I don’t.”

Georgie smoothed the sleeves of the wedding gown she’d labored over. “You just think about that man waiting for you by the altar and how much he adores you.”

“She’s right.” Kay opened her compact and dabbed powder under Mellie’s eyes. “Now let’s get you down the aisle. You only have a few days to enjoy married life before we go back to Italy. Don’t waste one more minute on the two of us.”

“All right.” Mellie lowered her eyes, pulled in a deep breath, and then raised her chin. “I’m ready.”

Georgie arranged the lacy veil over her friend’s face and then leaned through the doorway to the sanctuary and waved to the chaplain.

A few chords, and the organ changed to the wedding processional. Just over a week before, that same organ had offered solace in time of death and grief, but today it made the ancient stone walls vibrate with joy.

Kay would lead the way. She patted her pinned-up curls and straightened the russet-colored bolero jacket Georgie had made to cover Kay’s sleeveless grass-green ball gown. Then she strolled down the aisle with her bouquet. Madame La Rue, who owned their house in Istres, had insisted on providing flowers from her garden, including fragrant sprigs of dried lavender.

Every man and woman in the church turned and smiled at Kay, but she wasn’t the main attraction, nor did she want to be. So she fixed her attention on the men up front.

Tom MacGilliver stood by the chaplain in full dress uniform, his sandy blond hair neat, his bright eyes trained on the door, waiting for his bride. Only fidgeting fingers conveyed nervousness.

Two men from his battalion stood with him, Lt. Rudy Scaglione and Sgt. Larry Fong. The chaplain had expressed concerns about a Chinese man in the wedding party, but Tom had silenced him. Larry was an American citizen serving his country in combat. Any guests who had a problem with that were not welcome.

At the front of the church, Kay smiled at Tom and took her place. Who would have thought when she’d transferred anonymous letters between Mellie and Tom that they’d end up married?

Georgie came down the aisle in her long cobalt-blue gown and a jacket that matched Kay’s. She beamed as if it were her own wedding, even though her boyfriend, Hutch, had been unable to get a two-day pass to attend.