Until tomorrow,
Joseph
* * *
Kathleen folded the letter and couldn’t stop smiling. She was startled to realize she had tears running down her cold cheeks. Joseph had not only written back; he had filled her with a newfound assurance that she wasn’t the one in the wrong. She hadn’t caused her marriage to crumble. She hadn’t done a goddamned thing wrong, as he would say.
And he was right!
She hadn’t deserved to get beaten. If she had stayed, she would surely end up dead and buried with no one the wiser, like poor Evelyn. No matter how long it took, Kathleen would find the courage to live out her dream. And she would have Joseph to thank. And to thank him, she would start by writing him back. He was her friend, and he wasn’t officially taken yet.
She was a gift to him. That thought filled her heart with joy. The thought that she had made a difference in his life was incredible. It made her feel like she did have a purpose in this world. She could touch people’s lives with her words. It gave her an idea. She didn’t know if she could pull it off, but she sure could give it a try. She suddenly knew what she was meant to do….
And she owed it all to Joseph Henry Rutherford III.
December 1942: Puget Sound Navy Yard
Joseph stared up at the bunk above him, barely a foot above his head. When he first joined, he’d been claustrophobic, thinking he would never be able to handle the close quarters of living on a battleship. And it didn’t help he’d been in his bunk when Japan had dropped their bombs on Pearl Harbor. It was hard to sleep and not worry that it could happen again.
The United States had positioned their battleships like sitting ducks in Battleship Row because the waters were shallow. They thought no torpedo could get through to sink their ships. The problem was, they didn’t anticipate the ingenuity of the Japanese. Japan was smart. They figured out a way to make their torpedoes float until they struck their target by building wooden planks and attaching them to the bombs.
Problem solved.
Now that the attack was over, many ships had been upgraded. The Tennessee bore little resemblance to her former self, much wider and more modern. The interior had been rearranged and improved with the addition of a new compact super structure designed to provide control facilities while offering less interference to anti-aircraft guns. Upgraded anti-aircraft guns and fire-control radars were also installed. She now had a single funnel—or chimney—instead of her original twin funnels in a super structure tower. She was a force to be reckoned with.
The ship might have been rebuilt, but its crew had not. The disillusioned and damaged soldiers were expected to carry on as if business as usual. It didn’t matter that Joseph wasn’t the only one to scream out in the night. If he wasn’t having a nightmare, he would be awakened by someone else who was. They all lived in a constant state of fog and fear.
It was December. One year after the attack on Pearl Harbor. How was he supposed to get through reliving the horrible tragedy and the lonely holidays on his own? He clutched the letter to his chest. Kathleen had become a lifeline to him. His own family hadn’t written him back. Beverly had written him a short letter, sounding just like he’d feared: shallow and selfish. She didn’t have depth and not once did she ask about what he had gone through. She went on about herself and what their life would be like when he returned and took over his father’s shipbuilding business.
She sounded exactly like he used to be.
Only Kathleen seemed to genuinely care about him, and yet she had nothing. People had treated her horribly. She should be so angry at the world, at people like him, yet she wasn’t. She was still so full of compassion and sympathy. She truly cared about what he thought and how he felt and what he was going through. Everyone else back home expected him to man up and be okay. They had no clue he might never be okay again.
He carefully opened her letter as if it was the most precious Christmas gift of all. To him it was. She was just a friend, but his inner voice screamed he was fooling himself. She had become so much more than just a friend in such a short amount of time, yet their situation was impossible. His family would never accept her because of where she came from, but even more so with the scandal surrounding her. He swallowed the lump in his throat and read her letter, needing to feel close to her.
* * *
Dearest Joseph,
I am so glad you took the time to write me back as well. You have no idea how much your words have meant to me and how much I needed you in the moment your letter arrived. Knowing I am not crazy, that someone else believes in me means everything. You are the gift, and I will treasure your friendship always. I have doubted myself immensely, thinking maybe William’s abuse, and the town’s shunning, and my parents’ betrayal were all my fault. You, and you alone, have made me realize it wasn’t me. It was them. I can’t make them take ownership for what they have done, but I can forgive them and move on with my life, and I owe it all to you.
Now, the great question is, what do I want to do with the rest of my days? I feel free for the first time ever to do what I want. To be whom I want to be. To say what I want and not be punished for it. With my background in teaching, I have always loved the written word. And you yourself said my words were poetic. There must be something I can do. I’ll keep you posted.
In the meantime, I know how much you miss home. I thought you might enjoy another little piece of it. And fear not, I know you are promised to Beverly—PS I hope you hear from her soon—and I am married, but I agree. There is no reason we cannot be friends. You take care of yourself. Be safe and keep your spirits up. If I can get through the holidays alone, then you can too. Look up at the stars. There is only one sky. Know I will be thinking of you as I look up at the stars as well. You are not alone, and I will never stop writing you so long as you’ll have me.
Until tomorrow,
Kathleen
* * *
Kathleen had slipped the most brilliantly colored dried leaves inside the envelope. They fell out onto Joseph’s chest as he lay on his back in his bunk and reread every word of her letter once more. Holding each leaf up one at a time, he studied the small intricate lines like roads on a map and wondered if they led to anywhere but here. The colors were faded but still rich, the texture beginning to turn brittle.
A whiff of her perfume drifted to his nose, and he closed his eyes, picturing her. He suddenly had a strong urge to know what she looked like. He needed something real to hold on to. A vision to go to sleep to every night. An image of hope to chase the nightmares away. When she sealed that letter, she’d sealed her fate. He might not have a clue what the future held for him, but one thing he was certain about. Somehow, someway…
Kathleen Connor would be in it.
February 1943: Beacon Bay, Maine
Kathleen put another log on the fire and sat down to look at Joseph’s picture one more time. In fact, she hadn’t stopped looking at it since his letter had arrived the day before. It was black and white, but he had told her he had hair the color of a sandy beach and eyes the color of the sky. His hair was cropped short in standard military fashion. The picture must have been taken recently because he looked tired, his cheeks sunken in a bit as if he hadn’t been eating like he should. He was handsome in a classic way, but the war had taken its toll on him. It was clear he had been through a lot, but his eyes drew her in and wouldn’t let go.
He looked so sad and lost and broken down. Her heart melted and she longed to hold him in her arms and heal him, letting him know everything was going to be okay. But he wasn’t hers to hold. They were friends, but she knew deep in her heart she felt so much more for him. She didn’t dare express that to him for fear of scaring him away. He said he needed her, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think he meant it as anything other than a pen pal.
He was due to come home this year, but he wasn’t sure when. His family and Beverly and a whole new life awaited him. Kathleen would never deny him the chance to be happy, and being with h
er would only cause him more pain. He’d asked for a picture of her so he would have something to see in his dreams other than blood and death. How could she say no? She wasn’t much on pictures or spending a lot of time on her appearance, but she did have a picture of her on her wedding day. It was the only picture of her alone, right before she became William’s wife.
She studied the picture. It was a good one of her, but she realized for the first time that even then, on what should have been the happiest day of her life, she hadn’t looked happy. That should have been a sign. If only she had followed her instincts and walked away, she wouldn’t have traveled down this rough path in life. Although it was this very path that led her to live in the cottage and receive Joseph’s first letter. Fate was a strange beast. Before she could change her mind, she slipped the photograph inside the envelope with her letter and headed into town to the post office.
It was so cold out; her hat and gloves and cloak were no match for the harsh Maine weather they’d been having. The road was snow packed and barely passable; the trees heavy with carrying the load of their burden on their empty branches. Everything was cold, stark and white. Small little puffs of smoke filled the air as Kathleen’s warm breath escaped and her breathing picked up to match her rapid pace. The sooner she arrived at the post office, the sooner she could return to her cottage by the sea.
She missed the sunshine and flowers and the sound of the waves lapping the shore. Even the water was hibernating beneath the top layer of ice and the sunshine nestled beneath a blanket of gray overcast. Her food had been holding up, but next year she would need more. She’d lost weight in trying to ration what she had left to get her through to the spring thaw.
Finally coming around the last bend in the road, she reached town. It was a Sunday, so most people were at church. Kathleen had taken to worshipping at home as everyone, including the priest, had made it clear she wasn’t welcome at mass. That was why she had chosen this time to go to the post office. It was easier to avoid reality than have to face its ugly condemnation.
Heading inside the office, she handed her letter over to the clerk. The woman didn’t know who she was, much to Kathleen’s relief. She paid the fee and then left the office to head for home as quickly as she could. She stepped onto the sidewalk and stopped in her path, her breath freezing in her lungs.
“Kathleen,” William said with a note of desperation in his voice. He towered over her, blocking out her view and stealing her voice to cry for help. Not that anyone would come to her aid anyway. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.” He touched her arm with his gloved hand, but she still felt the heat and it gave her a chill.
She stepped back carefully until his hand fell away so it wouldn’t look like she was repulsed by his touch, even though that’s exactly what she was. She would rather freeze to death than be touched by him. “We have nothing to talk about, William.”
“I know your mother told you I’ve changed. Why won’t you give me another chance?” He shook his head, genuinely looking confused. He really didn’t see that what he had done was so wrong.
“You know why.” She stood straighter, knowing she needed to appear confident and strong, not showing any weakness. Snow started to fall softly and stick to her eyelashes, but she refused to blink first.
A shadow of fear crept into his haunted muddy brown eyes. “I never meant for that to happen. You’ve got to believe me. It was an accident. She fell off the cliff. I would never let that happen to you.”
“Really, because the last time you were at my cottage, you insinuated that very thing might happen to me.” She shook her head at him and let her disgust and disappointment plainly show. “How could you let her family think she ran off with another man?”
He stared at his feet, his face filled with shame and regret. His voice trembled as he said softly, “I loved her, and I knew how much losing her hurt. I thought it would be easier on her parents if they thought she was still alive.”
Kathleen believed him. He wasn’t born a monster, his father had turned him into one, and sadly there was no cure. While she might believe him, she still feared him. He was like a bomb, ready to go off, and she was tired of treading lightly. “You need to tell them. Set the record straight.”
His razor-sharp gaze snapped up to hers. Gone was the sadness and shame, replaced by anger and determination. “They’ve been gone for years. No one is going to tell anyone anything, you hear me? If you do, you will live to regret it. No one will believe you.” He looked at the post office behind her and scowled. “I saw you mailing a letter. Who was it to? Your boyfriend? It won’t take much to make the town believe you’re a whore too.”
And this was exactly why she would never go back to him. “I’m not afraid of you,” she lied, lifting her chin for good measure and staring him down. “I have proof hidden away. If anything happens to me, it will come out. It won’t matter if they believe it or not, they will always doubt you and your reputation will forever be damaged. I know where you buried Evelyn, and I know that your father helped you. That’s the trouble with sharing a bed. You never know what you might say in your sleep.”
He squeezed his eyes shut over the sound of Evelyn’s name spoken out loud. “Stop, just stop,” he growled, then his voice faded to an agonizing whisper, “please.”
Kathleen tried a different tack. “I know you regret what you did, or you wouldn’t still have nightmares about it. I won’t tell anyone, William. You’ll have to live with what you’ve done for the rest of your life. But I won’t give you the chance to do it to me. Stay away from me. I mean it.”
She didn’t give him a chance to say anything more as she quickly walked around him and headed home as church let out. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched people come out and greet William with smiles as if he were some upstanding citizen to be looked up to. It made her stomach turn. No, she wouldn’t say anything. She wouldn’t have to. Somehow, someway the truth always came out.
10
May 1943: Alaska (The Aleutian Islands and Tarawa)
Joseph Henry Rutherford III stood on the deck of the USS Tennessee—part of the new and improved Battleship Force Pacific Fleet—staring out over the Alaskan waters, headed toward a fight in the Aleutian Islands. The waters were home to the humpback whales and the majestic cliffs and mountains reminded him of Hawaii, except the peaks were snow-capped, there was no lava, and grizzly and polar bears roamed the forests.
Pulling his wool coat tighter, he admitted the temperature left much to be desired. But he wasn’t here on vacation, he was here for war. Providing sea protection to the landing forces was a job of major importance. Joseph had feared repercussions by Japan, but the Japanese Navy did not challenge the American forces, much to his relief. Instead, the Tennessee spent her time using her formidable guns to support the ground troops by bombarding enemy land positions. That didn’t mean he still didn’t witness horrible destruction and people dying. War was still war. The only thing that kept him going was looking at Kathleen’s face in her photograph and dreaming about the day he would finally get to hold her in his arms.
In three months, Joseph was going home to Beacon Bay, Maine on leave. He wasn’t due to get out of the Navy until the following summer, but he hadn’t been home in so long, this leave was desperately needed. His mother had already planned a big welcome home party. She fully expected him to meet Beverly and propose marriage to her, allowing her to plan the wedding over the next year while he returned to war, and then he would pick up where he left off in his father’s company upon his return. She had no idea he didn’t intend to marry Beverly. How could he when he was in love with a woman he’d never met, who was all wrong on paper for him, yet more perfect for him than any woman he had ever known.
Kathleen Connor was his soul-mate.
He knew it as sure as he knew he needed air to live. He would die without her. He would have died already if it wasn’t for her. He pulled out the picture she had sent him and held it in his hands as
if it was the most precious gift. And it was. She hadn’t come out and said so, but he was pretty sure she had given him her heart as well.
She wasn’t the most beautiful woman, but she was more beautiful to him than any woman he had ever seen. She was captivating. She said her hair was the color of melted caramels, and her eyes a sea-green. In the picture he could see the soft waves coming just to her delicate shoulders in a simple style, but they framed her too-long face, making the overall contrast lovely. Her mouth was small but shapely. She was pretty in a natural, mysterious, haunting way. Her eyes were what had hooked his heart and held it captive. Big, almond shaped, and mesmerizing. He could see the intelligence shining within and the determination lurking beneath as if afraid to show itself.
He knew no one would accept her and they would all be angry at him for his decision, but he didn’t care. She was the only thing that had kept him going this past year, and truth be told, he’d given her his heart as well. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but decided to do it in person. He couldn’t tell her he was in Alaska, but he could let her know he was coming home soon.
Let her know he wanted to meet her face-to-face.
She had left her husband, but the bastard refused to give her a divorce. He did however promise to leave her alone. After what he had done, Joseph wanted to protect her from him. Protect her from them all. Life was precious. Whatever time they had left on this earth was meant to be cherished, and he knew he wouldn’t be happy unless he spent his time with her. Everyone would just have to accept his decision. They would have a year to get over it and move on. After all he’d been through, that wasn’t too much to ask.
Then why did he have a sinking feeling war was just the beginning of the hell he would live through?
Until Tomorrow Page 11