The Soldier's Bride (13 page)

Emika had wanted to listen to the song again right after her mother left, but she knew it would be over too soon and then she would only have the noises of the hospital to fill the empty hours.

The man lifted his blanket to his face to muffle his cries. When Emika had first come to the hospital she had cried until there were no tears left. Then she had listened to the wailing of the other sick children on her floor, the way their sobs echoed through the hallway and drummed against her ears until she had to cover her head with a pillow.

This was why she loved the music box so much. When the music played, she could concentrate on its lilting melody instead of the moaning, pain-filled cries of the people around her. Emika had seen very few grownups cry, and when she had it seemed they always tried their best to hide the sounds of the sobs shaking their bodies. Children were different. Sometimes the shrieking and screaming was so loud Emika’s head throbbed from the noise. One day she had seen the nurses try to help a child who thrashed in her bed crying hysterically. They had kept trying to soothe her until her whole body shook violently and she fell silent. After they took the child out of the room, Emika had watched the nurse sink to the floor and cry, dabbing her eyes with a lacy handkerchief.

Emika decided she didn’t want to cry anymore, and after that she rarely did. Instead, she clenched her hands so tightly that her tiny fingernails pinched at her skin and her fingers tingled.

The man continued to cry into his blanket, and Emika pushed herself up from her bed. She reached toward the music box and pushed the button to unlatch the lid. She opened it and the ballerina sprang to life, the first twirl was always much faster than those that followed and Emika couldn’t help but smile.

Watching the ballerina dance in front of the mirror, Emika concentrated on the music and shut out the world. She hummed and swayed almost imperceptibly to the tune. She anticipated each note in her mind and let the music wash over her, pushing down the throbbing pain in her leg, drowning out the muffled sobs of the man.

The ballerina began to dance slower and the tinkling music stuttered as the crank wound down its final spin. After the music stopped, Emika didn’t move because she didn’t want to break the spell the song had cast. The room was quiet and she lifted her head to look at the man in the wheelchair.

Emika’s eyes widened when she saw the man staring at her. He was no longer crying. The blanket had fallen over his knees, and his blue eyes shone. The vacant gaze from earlier had gone, and his mouth turned up in a smile. She stared, unsure of what to do. The window across the room rattled as a gust of wind pushed against the small opening.

The breeze caressed Emika’s face and adjusted the miniature tutu on the ballerina before blowing toward the man in the corner, and drying the tears on his cheeks.

The ballerina swayed and moved another half circle, a piece of the music escaping with the wind. Emika watched as the man lifted his left hand in front of his face and touched the gold wedding band with his finger. He looked at Emika, his eyes bright. The corners of his mouth lifted.

“I’ve heard that song before,” he said when it was finished. “May I wind it for you again?”

Emika nodded. “Please.”

After they had listened to it three times, the soldier wound it again. He lifted the lids of the side compartments. “Not much jewelry here.” He smiled at Emika.

“My pin is in the drawer.” She motioned to the March of Dimes pin the hospital had given her. “And the secret messages are under the red fuzzy paper there.”

“Secret messages, huh?” he pulled back the lining of the top compartment where she indicated. “Don’t die with me.” His finger trailed along the pieces of paper, reading each one. “Forgive yourself—allow God to forgive. Live to dance again.” He lifted his eyes to Emika and tears glistened on his lashes.

“This is a special music box. I think—” he stopped and rubbed the side of his head. “I think I remember something.”

Evelyn shivered against the chill in the air as she brushed through her hair in front of the mirror and thought about Sterling. They had known each other for nearly nine months and had dated regularly for about four, almost five if she counted the time before Harlan. She shuddered and pulled her pink shawl tighter.

Straightening the locket she still wore, Evelyn paused, noting the shadow of pain in her eyes when she thought of Jim. Sterling told her he loved her every time they were together, and yet she still wore the locket with a picture of her dead husband. The gold chain shimmered in the light, and she tucked it inside her blouse. A knock at the door and her mother’s cheerful greetings signaled Sterling’s arrival. The stair creaked and Evelyn knew the sound indicated her mother coming to hurry her along.

“Your handsome date is waiting,” Marie said.

“Thanks, I’ll be right there.”

“Please try to enjoy this evening,” Marie whispered. “I just know Jim wouldn’t want Danny to be raised without a father.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened and she turned around to look at her mother. “Mama, I can’t.”

“But you can.” Marie took Evelyn’s hand and squeezed it. “Danny will be two next month. I know you’ve had a setback, but you’re stronger than this.” She hugged Evelyn and murmured, “That’s all I’m going to say.”

After Marie left the room, Evelyn closed her eyes and took a cleansing breath. Maybe her mother was right. Perhaps with time she could overcome her fears. There was hope that she could grow to love Sterling and she wouldn’t be alone anymore. He loved her. He loved Danny and she knew he could take good care of them. She enjoyed being with him and felt safe.

For a while she had considered breaking things off with Sterling, telling him that maybe they should date other people. But Evelyn knew she’d never have the courage to trust another man the way she did Sterling. She had a good relationship with him, if only she could overcome the aching in her chest every time she thought of leaving Jim behind permanently.

The clasp of the locket caught on a strand of her hair and she pulled it free. Perhaps one small step at a time could move her closer to making a decision about Sterling.

With trembling fingers, she reached behind her neck to find the clasp on the gold chain. Gently tugging at the chain brought the clasp to her fingers, and she concentrated on moving the tiny lever to release the locket from her neck. The quiet moment was interrupted when a large branch from the oak tree outside scraped against her window. Evelyn jumped and her fingers lost their hold on the clasp. The wind gusted against the house and the tree beat against the windowpane again.

Evelyn glanced in the mirror at the locket hanging near her heart. The gold shimmered against her gray silk blouse.
I’ll wear it one more night
, she thought. Sliding the locket under her blouse, she grabbed her handbag and headed down the stairs.

Sterling whistled when he saw her and pulled her close. “I thought the wind was trying to steal my date,” he said.

Evelyn smiled. “No, I think Old Man Winter’s trying to warn us he’s on his way.”

“Mama. Stir,” Danny said and then laughed when Sterling hoisted him into the air. “I can’t believe this boy is getting so big. Are you having a birthday in a couple of weeks?”

Danny giggled and held up one finger.

“My baby will be two.” Evelyn helped Danny lift up his other finger. “Two, Danny, that’s right. Do you want Sterling to come to your birthday party?”

“Cake. Stir,” Danny said and put his hands on Sterling’s cheeks.

“I would love to come.” Sterling leaned toward Danny until their foreheads touched, and then he looked at Evelyn. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment and she reached for Danny. “Give Mama a kiss and be a good boy for Granny.”

“Mama. Stir,” Danny said and patted his mother’s cheek and then reached for Sterling.

Sterling put his arm around Evelyn and Danny and gave them a hug. “I’ll see you later, buddy.” He ruffled Danny’s hair, and the little boy squirmed until Evelyn put him down. He ran to the kitchen where Marie and Harold waited with too many cookies for their only grandchild.

“Night, Mom and Dad,” Evelyn called. “Don’t give him any more cookies. He’ll be up too late.”

Marie peeked around the door frame. “A little sugar never hurt anyone.” She waved. “Go have a good time.”

Sterling chuckled and took Evelyn’s hand. “Ready?”

“You look handsome,” Evelyn said as he drove the car down the darkened street. Then she ducked her head. He did look wonderful with his blazer fitting snug across his broad shoulders. He wore the same white shirt and blue paisley tie he had the first night she’d performed at the Silver Lining. She thought of those moments when she was on the verge of happiness and wondered, was she really?

He grinned. “I know I told you I was just taking you to dinner, but I planned something special for tonight.”

“You’ve always got something up your sleeve, don’t you?” she said.

He winked and broke into a wide grin as he pulled the car into a driveway—his driveway. “Here we are. We probably could’ve walked but I wanted to surprise you.”

Evelyn laughed. “You’re taking me on a date to your house? You must be using too much gas on our dates lately.” She counted four vehicles parked outside the garage where Sterling did repairs. A few of the bushes around the house were overgrown, but the yard appeared tidy.

“I know it’s been hard for you to go out and wonder what everyone’s thinking and saying about what happened, so tonight we’ll dine alone.”

Evelyn looked down at her hands. She swallowed and then raised her head with a smile. “But I didn’t know you could cook.”

Sterling opened the door, slid out, and reached for her hand. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He took her hand and they walked into the house together.

The aroma of roasted chicken made Evelyn’s mouth moist and she inhaled deeply.

“Smells delicious. How beautiful,” she said as she noticed three different vases filled with freshly cut roses. “Where did you find roses like these in November?”

Pulling one from a vase, Sterling held it toward her and smiled. “These are the last of them. This house had an established rose garden out back when my brother and I moved in, and part of it is covered—a kind of makeshift greenhouse.”

She took the rose and touched the light pink satin petals. She lifted the rose and sniffed. “Roses and roast chicken, does your house always smell this good?”

“Potatoes, too. Unfortunately, I think it smells like a bachelor’s home most of the time.” He led her to the kitchen table. The cream-colored linen had a few stains Sterling had tried to cover by strategically placing a vase of roses and a serving platter over them.

Evelyn smiled and her heart warmed with appreciation for him. He was a good man. He hadn’t given up on her; instead he’d shown her how much he cared. She was thankful for the chance to spend some quiet time with him. She looked at the table and could see touches of Sterling’s devotion everywhere. The china was certainly his mother’s; the delicate pink roses painted along the sides embossed with silver caught the flickering light of the tapered candles Sterling had just lit. “You might want to put those on a dessert plate, so they don’t drip wax on your tablecloth.”

“See, this place needs a woman’s touch,” Sterling said, and Evelyn heard more than his words, felt the implications as she looked around the house.

“You’ve done a good job. It’s clean and neat.”

He paused, and Evelyn recognized the longing in his eyes. She met his gaze until her throat felt tight with emotion and she squeaked out, “Can I help you with anything?”

Sterling furrowed his brow. “I had a little trouble with the gravy.”

Evelyn walked over to the stove, where he lifted the lid off a pot containing some thick gray mush. She giggled, “If you have some butter and a bit of the drippings off that chicken, I can whip up a cream sauce that will be great for chicken or potatoes.”

“Really? That sounds delicious.”

“A little flour, too.” She noticed the flush of pink on Sterling’s cheeks as he handed her some flour in a cup.

“I think that might’ve been where I went wrong—too much flour.”

“A common mistake,” Evelyn said. “I’m impressed you even attempted gravy. It took me a lot of practice to get it right, and I still think my mom’s is better.” She whisked the ingredients together. “See, you have to make a roux with the butter and flour.”

Sterling stood behind her and peeked over her shoulder. “A roux?” The warmth of his breath tickled her neck.

“Yes, a roux is a smooth mixture of flour and butter—no lumps. Then you add the liquid. Are you paying attention?”

“Yes, I’m trying, but you keep distracting me.” He slid his hands around her waist and kissed her cheek, leaning against her.

Evelyn felt her body tense and reminded herself it was Sterling, he wouldn’t hurt her. Swallowing her fears, she leaned her head back onto Sterling’s shoulder and smiled. “A good cream sauce is just like gravy. Now if you’ll take note, I’m trying to teach you something that will put some meat on your bones.”

“Can’t I just keep you forever?” Sterling murmured. “You could make me gravy any time you like.” He moved aside a tendril of her hair and planted a kiss on the back of her neck. “What is this necklace you always wear?” His fingers traced the thin chain of gold attached to her locket.

The whisk clattered against the pan and fell onto the stove—droplets of cream sauce splattered the counter. “Oh, I’ve made a mess.” Evelyn moved out of Sterling’s grasp and mopped up the spill with a dishrag. “I think it’s ready.” She turned and stopped short as Sterling put his arms around her again.

“Thanks, Evelyn, for giving me a chance,” Sterling whispered.

She knew he wanted to kiss her. He’d been testing her reaction to his closeness, and she’d been biting back her fear. But his notice of the locket had unnerved her and before he could attempt a kiss, she hugged him and stepped around him toward the table. “I’m starving, how about you?”