Her Blue-Eyed Corporal (Soldiers 0f Swing Book 2)

by Linda Ellen

  “May I have this dance?” a honeyed voice queried next to her ear.

  She turned and looked up into those amazingly turquois blue eyes. Why, seconds ago he was all the way across the room! How did he get here so fast? She was so shocked that for a moment, she didn’t answer.

  “Pilot to bombardier…well? The night ain’t getting any younger, you know,” those eyes twinkled with teasing delight.

  That snapped her out of her fog and feeling flustered, she placed her hand in his outstretched palm. He quickly and smoothly wound the other arm around her lower back and immediately spun them into a circle, causing the material of her dress to flare and meld with his trouser-covered legs.

  Contentedly touching his jaw to her temple, he kept them gliding together in perfect sync. Effortlessly following his lead, she allowed her eyes to drift shut.

  Several bars of the lovely melody played as one of the band’s male singers crooned the lyrics, and Mary June sighed softly and mused that life sometimes really did imitate art. This was Heaven. Steve was the best dancer she had partnered with in months. That, combined with the divine aroma of the aftershave he had used, made her feel enveloped in a cloud of euphoria. But were those the only reasons? The thought made her daydream of gliding with this blue-eyed corporal on the dance floor all night and never tiring. Truly, in this moment, her aching feet felt light as feathers. This was magical!

  Realizing she had just about given up on the idea of ever finding romance, she now mused that perhaps all of these weeks of being faithful to fulfill her duty to the cause had resulted in her stumbling across her Mr. Right after all.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if Steve Wheeler would turn out to be her blue-eyed corporal…

  CHAPTER 4

  Steve and his long-lost identical brother had walked back from the men’s room together, laughing at the different reactions of the girls when Steve had made his teasing remark.

  “Your girl’s on the beam, but I thought her friend was gonna flip her wig,” Steve had chuckled, and then added nonchalantly, “She’s not rationed or anything, is she?” Dumb question…would she have gone out with me as a blind date if she were going steady?

  Gene had sent him a sly glance, nodding to himself as if answering a silent question. Steve hadn’t known if the nod was in agreement with his assertion that Viv was a smart cookie, or if he were thinking something else. Then Gene had lifted one shoulder. “Far as I know, she’s free as a bird. But then, I thought you weren’t interested in having a steady babe.”

  “I’m not,” Steve had shot back, for some reason instantly defensive. No way would he tell his know-it-all brother that he’d been thinking about that girl way too much in the days since their blind date. He put on an unaffected air. “Just shootin’ the breeze.”

  “Mmm hmm. So you say…brother.”

  Steve mumbled a few choice words at him as they stood side by side in the large open doorway to the ballroom and Gene laughed, giving his sibling a brotherly shoulder bump. As Gene had scoured the hall for his girl, Steve had put on a good act of not looking for the brunette who had surprisingly and persistently remained on his mind. However, despite his declarations of disinterest, he had looked for and spotted her in seconds, dancing with a tall copper-topped drink of water who seemed to be trodding everywhere except where he should be – namely on her feet – as he attempted to dance.

  Several moments later, the song had ended and a popular, smooth ballad started. Before he made a conscious decision to do so, his feet were propelling him across the floor and he was whispering in her ear.

  Now, with his jaw nestled snugly against her temple, Steve idly mused that he was glad he had taken the time to give himself a good, close shave, or she’d probably be squawking. When he had phoned his brother and told him he had a hankering to do a little jitterbugging down at the club, he hadn’t figured on getting cozy with any of the girls. All the same, he’d taken extra time with his preparations. At the time, he’d laughed at himself that his identical brother’s penchant for being perfectly groomed must be rubbing off on him. He had noticed that Gene’s lady seemed to appreciate it…

  As he and Mary June flowed together to the velvety smooth tune, he marveled at how she seemed to fit inside the circle of his arms as if he were a jacket tailor-made to be her shelter…to surround her and that amazing dress she was wearing. He wondered, fleetingly, why he hadn’t noticed the first two times he’d seen his brother’s fiancée’s best friend, that she was downright eye-catching! Had he really considered her just…passably pretty? He pictured, for a moment, the two of them sitting side-by-side in the backseat of his brother’s car as they headed downtown on their blind date. As he recalled, she had looked…nice. But now…Holy Mackerel!

  He skillfully negotiated another swirl within the press of the other dancers and became aware of a mesmerizing fragrance in the air. Was the tune bewitching him? Or was the scent emanating from the lovely creature in his arms? He almost chuckled. What was wrong with him? Lovely creature? He’d never considered himself a particularly romantic fellow. Normally he relegated that kind of schmaltz to Hollywood fakes on the big screen; guys that he considered wimps who weren’t real men that performed real jobs – like protecting the country from those who would want to destroy it. Who needed to be romantic? The girls he usually squired around were more likely to be…up for a good time, so to speak. He’d never wanted or needed to romance them. Now, however, his tastes seemed to be changing.

  With his eyes closed, and his cheek pressed against that whisper soft skin of hers, the clean scent of her hair and the delightful fragrance of her perfume seemed to be transporting him to another realm. He’d never known dancing could be like this…like…Heaven. Wow, this song… Cheek to Cheek…was it ever hitting the mark!

  The feel of this girl in his arms, the bouquet of her…like a dozen different flowers softly rolled into one – made him burrow a bit closer. A lazy smile curved his lips and he murmured, “Mmm, what’s that scent you’re wearing? You smell so good…”

  He felt her smile against his cheek and her voice sounded breathy in his ear. “It’s called Joy. It’s my favorite perfume…it’s a bit expensive, but it’s my one vice.”

  Steve answered with a nod, thinking it suited her perfectly as he remembered the two times he’d been with her…her bubbly laughter…and her ability to find “joy” in simple things – like a crazy story about Victor Mature and an out-of-order sign.

  He swirled them around again. “Well, I’d say if that’s your only vice, you’ve got the rest of us beat hands down.”

  She smiled again and gave a soft chuckle. “Well, I might have one or two more…”

  Steve snickered and as he opened his eyes enough to navigate, the bright flowers on her dress caught his attention. “Like wearing dresses that make a man’s blood heat up just looking at ya?” he contributed flirtatiously.

  Unexpectedly, she pulled back so she could look him in the eye. “What do you mean?” she nearly demanded.

  Steve blinked at the sudden transformation, but managed to keep the rhythm of the dance going and not bump into the next couple. He let his eyes fall for a second to the solid blue material at the front of her dress, which called attention to certain aspects of her enticing figure, then back up to meet her gaze. “I mean like the dress you’ve got on…I like it and all, and you look downright fetching in it. But you’ve gotta know it’s a bit more…eye catching…than what any of these other girls are wearing.” At her wide-eyed shock, he merely shrugged. “So you wanted to get noticed tonight. Stand out above the herd a bit. Nothing wrong with that—”

  Like a cat poised to attack, Mary June bristled and stiffened in his arms.

  “Above the herd?” she sneered, and then it was like somebody turned on a machine gun as she began to fire words at him. “So, now we’re a bunch of cows, huh? All of us girls who come here every Saturday night, slaving away on the dance floor to make sure a bunch of flat-footed dead hoofers in un
iforms get to dance, telling guys over and over, ‘No, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you drive me home tonight’, no matter, by the way, what we are wearing—”

  “Miss Harriman, what is the meaning of this?” a stern voice interrupted her tirade.

  By that time, they had stopped dancing and she had extracted herself from his arms and was standing with her hands on her hips as she raked him over the coals. He, in contrast, had settled back, somewhat amused with his hands in his trouser pockets while she went off like a Roman Candle on the Fourth of July.

  Now, they both realized that the other couples surrounding them had stopped to watch the spectacle. They turned their heads in unison to face an angry Miss Warren.

  Obviously contrite, Mary June turned toward the formidable woman and nervously began to smooth her hands down her skirt. When she did, the woman’s eyes were instantly drawn to her dress, and Steve had the distinct feeling that she wished a hole would magically open up in the floor so she could drop into it. He wished now he hadn’t teased her about her choice of attire – he had been enjoying the landscape, after all. But woo, man, she was obviously touchy about it…

  “Miss Warren, I’m sorry…” Mary June began, but was cut off.

  “Young lady, you know better than to wear something like this to this club – it is strictly against the rules – which you signed when you joined. Frankly, I’m surprised at you. Now, in this inappropriate dress, you seem to be causing some sort of disturbance. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises,” she paused as Vivian shouldered her way through the crowd. Steve moved to let her by and saw she was holding out a white, lightweight sweater.

  “Miss Warren, what if she puts this on over it?”

  Mary June shot a grateful look at her best friend coming to her rescue as she immediately grabbed the item and shrugged her arms into it, and then began to button the first two buttons. Steve could see the girl’s face was quite red and he wondered if it was from her anger at him or merely a blush of humiliation.

  Steve watched as the director eyeballed the proceedings and grudgingly approved the wardrobe adjustment. With a slight nod, she murmured, “I suppose that will have to do. Thank you, Miss Powell.” Then, she glanced around at the nosey onlookers, and stepped near Mary June to whisper sternly, “See me in my office when the dance is over.”

  Warily, she submitted to the woman with a mumbled, “Yes, Ma’am.”

  The song had come to an end and the band members had paused before starting up the next tune, but now, the leader gave the order for the opening bars to a favorite – a Dixieland version of Bill Bailey, Won’t You Please Come Home – no doubt to help boost the flagging spirit.

  Uniformed men from the wings rushed over to claim girls for the dance and everyone around them began to launch into various versions of the Charleston as Steve and Mary June stared at one another.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t help it – he started to laugh, and her eyes immediately fired up again in anger.

  “What?” he asked innocently. “Told you, didn’t I? And from the sound of things, you should have known better.”

  She opened and closed her mouth several times, like a fish out of water, as if she couldn’t quite spit out the words she wanted to say. Then, balling up her fists, she clamped her teeth together and growled, “Ooooooh!” before flouncing over toward Vivian and Gene, who had begun a wacky attempt to keep up with the music.

  On her way past, she reached out and grasped her friend’s arm, declaring, “Take a bathroom break with me, okay?”

  Vivian let go of Gene’s hands and giggled as she caught her footing. Sending him a mini wave, she called, “Be back in a minute!”

  Steve shook his head and chuckled.

  Whoo doggies. If she were a cat, I’d be clawed to ribbons right now.

  The two of them sailed straight through the press of people, out the door, down the hall, and into the ladies’ powder room. Once inside, Mary June shut the door and then whirled around.

  “Ooooooo, that man!” she exploded, then clamped her hands on her arms, striving to dial herself back down.

  Her friend shook her head and turned toward the mirror to check her make up. “Who, Steve?”

  “Yes, Steve,” she grumbled, beginning to pace back and forth.

  Viv eyed her in the mirror. “I know he’s a little rough around the edges, but… Good heavens, what did he do?”

  Mary June snapped a look over at her friend and brought both hands up to clamp over her Victory Rolls, drawing in a big breath and letting it out in a whoosh.

  The other girl continued, “From where we were, it looked like you two were…enjoying your dance…cheek to cheek…”

  Mary June stopped and met her eyes. “We were…and then he…well, he…” she wavered, her mind going back over the actual conversation. “He started teasing me…about my dress,” she added, glancing down at her sweater-covered bodice.

  “He teased you about your dress?” Viv asked, her eyes giving off a sparkle as she put two and two together. “Did he maybe say he liked your dress?”

  Other girls were milling around inside the large, multi-stalled restroom, several of them giving the girls the eye as they unabashedly listened in. Most of them had witnessed the scene out on the floor. One who had been close enough to hear the exchange giggled knowingly.

  Mary June turned toward the sink and began washing her hands just to have something to do with them. She could feel Vivian’s gaze, waiting for an answer to her question, and she finally looked up. “Well…yes. But…it was the way he said it. He said he understood that I wore it because I wanted to stand out above the herd.”

  Viv gasped, but instead of getting angry, she burst out laughing. “That’s something he’d say, all right.” She shook her head fondly. “The herd. That hits the nail on the head pretty good, don’t ya think?” She shot another look at her friend. “And that’s what made you so mad?”

  Seeing her friend’s amused reaction to the infuriating man’s remark created a crack in the slab of an ice-jam somewhere inside, and Mary June began to feel ashamed of her outburst. Matter of fact, the more she thought about it, the more ashamed she felt. Other things Steve had said came tumbling back to her mind – his compliments, his telling her he liked her perfume…the feelings and emotions she had experienced during their dance. It had felt like Heaven in his arms, floating on a cloud, swaying cheek to cheek…she’d never connected with a man like that before. She’d even begun thinking he might be her elusive Mr. Right…

  Pretty soon, she moaned miserably. “Oh Viv, why did I bust his chops like that? I see now, he was just needling me. My own brother does that and I don’t claw his eyes out… Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat, I’ve never had anyone push my buttons the way this guy can. He…he makes me crazy!” In more ways than one… She shivered as the last of her hot anger evaporated.

  Finished with freshening up, Viv turned and hooked an arm through Mary June’s. “Know what I think?”

  The girls’ eyes met and Mary June gave an unladylike snort. “Oh, shut up.”

  The two of them, and several other girls, burst out laughing as they made their way back out to the dance floor.

  CHAPTER 5

  Gene handed a quarter to the attendant and moved the wobbly, floor-mounted gear lever of his 1932 Ford Sedan into first and gave it a little gas, allowing the car to roll on from the tollbooth up the Second Street approach of the Louisville Municipal Bridge.

  After the dance was over and the brothers had taken the girls home, the guys had caught a late movie together at the Vogue, Across the Pacific, starring Humphrey Bogart and Mary Astor. It was a spy film about a captain supposedly court-martialed from the U.S. Coast Artillery who masquerades as a mercenary, but actually goes undercover to thwart a plot by Japan to bomb the Panama Canal.

  “Man, wasn’t that something about Bogie’s character uncovering that plot by the Japs to bomb the channel? Sure bore a resemblance to what happened at Pearl,” Gene c
ommented as he steered the car to merge into the steady line of vehicles. “What’s with the traffic this late? It’s way past midnight,” he mumbled.

  “It’ll be just dandy if it’s another wreck,” Steve snorted. “But yeah, and it made me wonder if the movie writers did that on purpose. Sure wish somebody like Bogie could have thrown a monkey wrench in the Jap’s plans in real life, huh?”

  “Dang straight.”

  “I’ve heard Pearl Harbor is still messed up,” Steve continued soberly. “It’ll probably never be the same again. They say there’s big gouge marks and scorch marks everywhere from the planes and fire. But at least they are making headway. Heard the other day that six battleships and three cruisers have already been patched or refloated so they could be sent to the shipyards in Pearl or on the mainland…but the Arizona…” Steve paused and Gene nodded solemnly as both men gave a symbolic “hat’s off” of respect to the 1,177 sailors who lost their lives in the attack on that one ship alone.

  “My best friend from high school was at Pearl…” Gene hesitated, as the subject always caused him sadness when he let his mind dwell on it. “Russ Calhoun… He’d joined the Navy early in ’41…he’d even sent me a package with a gag gift, bragging about all of the Hawaiian babes he was squiring around,” he shook his head with a fond sadness. “He…he took a hit during the attack. The docs patched him up, but the wound just wouldn’t heal. He died of an infection a month later.”

  “Man, that’s tough,” Steve murmured sympathetically.

  “Yeah…” Gene whispered. There was nothing else to say. It was a bad break all around.