The Wedding Tree

by Robin Wells

  “It’s like people.” The music swelled. He guided me around the edge of the dance floor. “You can never be really sure that what you mean is what someone else understands. Everyone frames things in the context of their experience and according to their mood.”

  I looked up at him. It was not the kind of conversation I expected. I’d just met this man, and yet we’d jumped from getting-acquainted chitchat to really talking.

  “It’s interesting how we all move around in the same space, yet live in our own interior worlds,” he said.

  My interior universe seemed to have just collided with his. Our exterior universes were connecting pretty well, too. I was keenly aware of the warmth of his hand on my waist, the warmth of his fingers gripping my hand.

  I tried to put the conversation back on familiar ground. “So what about you? What do you do?”

  “I’m a pilot.”

  There must be a thousand different jobs in the Army Air Force, and most of them were on the ground—but somehow I’d known from the moment I first saw him that he was a pilot. “I’ve always wanted to fly. Is it as marvelous as I imagine?”

  “What do you imagine?”

  “Well—a sense of boundlessness, I suppose. Not freedom, exactly, because, after all, you’re in the military and you’re not able to steer wherever you want—but a sense of not being fettered by gravity.”

  I was afraid I’d gone too far—that I’d waxed too eloquent and that he’d laugh at me. But he didn’t. He swung me about. “That’s pretty much exactly it.”

  “The perspective of everything from the air—well, it must be amazing to look down and see the world so far below.”

  He nodded. “I never lose my sense of awe about it. You can see patterns in things—the farm fields, the roads, the forests cut by streams and rivers. It’s beautiful. Even a junkyard is beautiful if you’re high enough above it.”

  “It’s like the plane is your camera lens.”

  “Never thought of it that way, but yeah.” His thigh pushed against mine, causing a wave of heat to radiate up my leg. “Problem is, my camera drops bombs and gets shot at.”

  I was immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re up there joyriding.”

  “You didn’t. I just can’t wait to fly under other circumstances.”

  “You plan to be a pilot after the war is over?”

  “Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Commercial aviation will grow by leaps and bounds after the war.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait! I’m dying to fly.”

  “I’d love to take you up.”

  The song ended. Before the last note had cleared the air, a sailor tapped him on the back. “Can I have this dance?” he asked.

  “Afraid not.” My partner kept his arm around me. “She’s my fiancée.”

  Over his wide shoulder, I saw the sailor walk away.

  “I’ll get in trouble,” I said, dropping my hand from his shoulder and stepping back. “I’m supposed to dance with everyone who asks.”

  He gave me a slow grin. “For all the chaperones know, he was just asking the time.”

  I put my hands on my hip. “What makes you so sure I want to keep dancing with you?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Of course I did, but I cocked my head and pretended to consider it. “Well . . .”

  The band started playing “Blues in the Night.” He gave a low chortle and pulled me back into his arms.

  “You’re awfully smug, aren’t you?” I said as we swayed to the music.

  “No. I’m just awfully determined to keep what I want once I find it.”

  I don’t know if it was the words, or the feeling of his body against mine, but all of a sudden, I was covered in hot chill bumps. “You ought to at least feel a little remorse for lying to that sailor like that.”

  “Who says it was a lie?” He pulled me close as the music started. “Maybe it was just a premature truth.”

  I should have been put off by his brashness. I mean, who talks like that? But there was something about him. Something that made my insides melt like ice cream in July. “I don’t even know your name,” I said.

  “Joe.” He pulled me closer. “Joe Madison. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Madison,” I repeated. “Like the town in Wisconsin and the avenue in New York City?”

  “That’s right. Ever been either place?”

  “No, but I’d love to. I’d love to see the whole world.”

  He smiled down at me.“Sounds like you’ve got a vagabond spirit.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So where do you want to go first?”

  “Well, I have a list, but I’m not particular about the order.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “It’s too long to remember in its entirety, but let’s see . . . San Francisco. New York. The Grand Canyon. And if the war ever stops, Europe. I’d especially love to see the Eiffel Tower, if it’s still standing. And Egypt: I’d love to photograph the Sphinx and the pyramids. And India. I want to see the Taj Mahal. Oh, and a tropical island—I’d love to go to a tropical island.” He spun me around the floor. “I want to be a travel photographer.”

  “Isn’t that a man’s job?”

  “Who says it has to be? A woman can take photos just as well as a man.”

  “Don’t you want to marry and settle down?”

  “Why does everyone act like they have to be one and the same?”

  His left eyebrow rose. His lips curved, but his smile lacked condescension. “You, apparently, have a different opinion?”

  “Well, I think it would be grand to marry, to have a life partner and travel companion. But as for the settle-down part, I’d like to put that off awhile.”

  “You’re a freethinker, Adelaide.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.”

  “Very unconventional.”

  “Well, a lot of conventional things that women are supposed to do strike me as kind of silly.”

  “Such as?”

  “Wearing white gloves, and acting like a weakling so men will feel big and strong and protective. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t mind being protected, when I need it. But I love being strong myself, and I don’t think a real man would be intimidated by that.” He whirled me around again, and I feared I’d said too much. “I suppose you think me unfeminine.”

  “Quite the opposite.” His eyes were warm blue pools. “I think you’re amazing. And I think it would be amazing to see the world with a woman like you.”

  I tamped down the thrill running through me. “You’re laying it on a little thick there, Joe. Better save some of those suave lines for the next girl.”

  “What if there isn’t a next girl?” He spun me in a turn.

  “With a guy like you, there’s always a next girl.”

  His hand tightened on my back, pulling me intoxicatingly close, so close that my chest touched his, and his thigh once again pressed against mine. “Not if I’ve found the girl.”

  9

  adelaide

  Joe didn’t leave my side the rest of the evening. Mrs. Brunswick shot me increasingly disapproving looks, and strode up when we finally took a break from the dance floor. “I’m sorry, Adelaide, but you need to mingle with the other servicemen.”

  Joe turned his considerable charm on the older woman, explaining that this was his first visit to the USO and the only dance he’d get to attend before he shipped overseas, and could she possibly find it in her heart to let him consolidate the time the other servicemen would get to spend with me over the course of a normal leave into just tonight?

  “I can’t believe the old bag made an exception to her own rules,” Marge said hours later as we rode home in the nearly empty streetcar after the dance. We were seated across from each other on the hard wooden seats, and s
he’d been quizzing me about Joe ever since we’d escaped the chaperone who escorted us to the streetcar stop.

  I told her some of the things he’d said, and she feigned a swoon. “Ooh, what a charmer!”

  “Maybe a little too much of one,” I replied.

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to forgive you for not honoring my dibs.” She dug in her purse for a peppermint. “I think this is a case of love at first sight.”

  “You can’t love someone you just met,” I scoffed.

  “Sure you can!”

  “No. That’s a myth.”

  “Well, myth or not, you have to admit you like him.”

  “Maybe.” For some reason, I was hesitant to talk too much about him. Part of me longed to gush, but another part of me wanted to hold the memories close and just think about him in private. Everything that had transpired between us felt intensely intimate and oddly momentous.

  “No ‘maybe’ about it. You’ve got a glow about you.”

  “I’m sure he’s got girls glowing all over the place.”

  “He’s a charmer, all right, but he really zeroed right in on you.” She huffed out a sigh. “Maybe I should try pouring water all over someone.”

  The streetcar jangled to a stop. Marge’s brown eyes widened. “Oh my goodness. Speak of the devil!”

  I was facing away from the door, so I twisted around, and lo and behold, there was Joe, dropping coins in the box. My heart pattered hard as he strode down the aisle, smiling widely, and took off his hat.

  I tried to act unruffled as he sat beside me. “Are you following me?”

  He grinned. “I prefer to think of it as seeing two ladies safely home.”

  “How did you get to this stop so quickly?”

  He hadn’t left the church rec room more than five minutes before I did. I’d explained that the rules prohibited the junior hostesses from leaving with a man, and that he couldn’t just wait for me on the street corner, because the chaperones kept a careful eye out for that sort of behavior. He’d hung around until the servicemen were asked to leave, and then managed to stay inside longer by charming Mrs. Brunswick into allowing him to help fold and stack chairs. Then he’d gotten my phone number and said good-bye, and I thought I’d seen the last of him for the evening.

  “I grabbed a cab and asked to be dropped off a couple of streetcar stops after the church.”

  “Who does a thing like that?” Marge said.

  “A guy who really wants to see a girl again.” He grinned. “Would you two like to go somewhere for a drink?”

  “Sure!” Marge said.

  I shot her a look. “It’s late, and we really should be getting home.”

  “Well, then, I’ll see you two ladies to your door.”

  And he did. He included Marge in the conversation. She flirted with him—I guess it’s just in her nature; I don’t think she can help herself—but he didn’t flirt back. He told us that he was from Sacramento, that he’d lived with his sister and an aunt, and that he’d been studying engineering at Berkeley before he’d signed up.

  Marge had the grace to duck into the house once we arrived, leaving me alone with Joe on the porch. “I only have a few more days in town, but I’d like to see you as much as I can before I leave.”

  All I could do was nod.

  “Are you serious about wanting to fly?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I’m going to take you up.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to figure out a way to take you for a flight. Are you game?”

  “I—” I looked at him. He was proposing the biggest adventure of my life. “Yes. Absolutely!”

  “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  “Not even Marge?”

  “Only if you’re one hundred percent sure she won’t tell a soul until I’ve left town. Once I’m overseas, it won’t matter. They need pilots so badly they won’t care if I set the commissary on fire.” He grinned. “Which, now that I think of it, might improve the food.”

  I laughed. “I’ll keep it on the QT.”

  “All right, then. I’ll be in touch.”

  He seemed to be serious! As thrilled as I was, I needed to get one thing straight. “I can keep my mouth shut, Joe, but I can’t tell an outright lie.”

  “Very ethical of you.”

  “When I say ‘can’t,’ I mean it literally. I’m a terrible liar.”

  “There’ll be no need.” He put his hands on either side of my face, and my heart felt as if it were going to burst through my dress. His thumbs caressed my cheeks. “You’re really something, Addie.”

  I couldn’t breathe. I thought he was going to kiss me, and I would have let him, even though we’d just met, and only loose girls kissed on a first date back then—and this wasn’t even a date.

  But he just looked at me, looked straight into my eyes, in a way no one had ever looked at me before, as if he were really seeing me, seeing inside me, seeing my thoughts and feelings, seeing my very soul.

  And then he dropped his hands. “Good night.”

  My voice wouldn’t come out above a whisper. “Good night.” I opened the door, my legs all weak and shaky.

  “Addie?” he called softly.

  I turned. His eyes were warm and luminous. His lips tipped up in a smile. “I’m really glad I met you.”

  10

  hope

  While she’d been talking, Gran had leaned back in her chair and gazed at the far wall. I’d sat there completely spellbound, feeling almost as if I were a watching a movie, more than a little stunned by this glimpse into my grandmother’s youth.

  Gran paused and closed her eyes. I wasn’t sure if she was falling asleep or just gathering her thoughts.

  “Wow, Gran—did he take you flying?” I asked softly.

  She opened her eyes, her mouth curved in a small smile. “Yes. Oh yes.”

  “In what?”

  “An air force bomber. A B-something.”

  This was so unlikely that for the first time since she’d started talking, I wondered if this had really happened. She was, after all, a very elderly woman who’d just had a serious brain injury. I decided to dig for more details. “A B-17?”

  “I think it had a higher number. I—I don’t really remember.” She ran a hand across her forehead and closed her eyes again.

  I leaned forward. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m afraid I’m getting a headache,” she said.

  “I’ll check and see if it’s time for your medicine.”

  I went into the kitchen and picked up the hospital discharge instructions from the counter. As I was reading them, the back door opened and Nadine bustled in, carrying an entire mint plant. “I had to go all the way to the plant nursery in Covington to find this,” she grumbled, setting the plant on the windowsill.

  I explained that Gran had a headache, and Nadine made a tsking sound. “It’s no wonder. She’s overdue for her medication, and she probably needs to lie down besides.” She gave me an I’m-onto-you look. “If you’d let me take care of her instead of sending me off on ridiculous errands, I could keep her a lot more comfortable.”

  “She has some things she wants to tell me in private.”

  “I figured.” Nadine went to the sink and washed her hands. “All you have to do, dear, is tell me you need some privacy. I can listen to an audio book—I have earphones and an iPod—and I can be in another part of the house doing laundry or cleaning the bathroom or otherwise making myself useful without hearing a word. The same goes for the aides on the other shifts.”

  “I’ll tell her. Thank you.”

  “No problem.” Nadine lifted one of Gran’s medicine bottles. “She needs two of these.”

  I took the pills and a glass of water back into the dining room, gave them to Gran, and re
layed the message.

  “Hmph.” Gran swallowed the meds. “Can’t trust folks not to eavesdrop. Everything anyone says in Wedding Tree gets repeated all over town.”

  “Nadine’s not from here. She lives in the country about twenty minutes away.”

  Gran closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them to look at the pile of boxes. “We haven’t made much progress, have we?”

  “Not a lot.”

  She lifted her hand and pointed to a large box in the corner marked “bed linens.” “Well, I think everything in that can go. It’s full of old tablecloths and towels and such.”

  “What do you want me to do with them?”

  “Oh, honey—whatever you think is best.” She placed her hand on her forehead. “I think I need to lie down until this medicine kicks in.”

  I called for Nadine. She helped me get Gran settled in bed and brought an ice pack for her head.

  I went back into the living room, opened the bed linens box and pulled out the contents. It was filled with yellowed sheets and tablecloths worn to near translucence and neatly patched. I ran my fingers over the hand-sewn stitches, probably the work of my great-grandmother. No wonder Gran had saved them; the care and frugality that had been lavished on these linens made my chest tighten. My job was to dispose of them, though; I was here to do what Gran hadn’t been able to bring herself to do.

  I’d contacted a couple of vintage stores back in Chicago, and they’d agreed to look at photos of anything I thought might be valuable. I’d also set up accounts on Craigslist and eBay, and I knew the addresses of local charities that took donations.

  I decided to take the linens to the local animal shelter. As I emptied the box, I wondered what had happened to Joe and how Gran had ended up marrying my grandfather. I wondered if she’d really been up in a bomber, or if her mind was playing tricks on her.

  All I knew for sure was that I couldn’t wait for her to tell me more.

  • • •