The Soldier's Bride

by Christensen, Rachelle J.

  “Rhonda?” The question hung in the stillness. He stepped toward the piece of paper on the table. It was some of Rhonda’s stationery—a soft green with an R embossed in the corner. “Rhonda, where are you?” he called even though his heart stuttered with the knowledge that she was gone. The chair creaked when he slumped into it and he stared at the note Rhonda had written. Lines blurred together. He rubbed his eyes, took a ragged breath, and began reading.

  Leland,

  A few days after Jessie died, I scrubbed that rug until my fingers were raw and then just stopped. I realized it’s just a rug and it’s only shoe polish, but I realized that too late for Jessie. Those first few months I went to her grave and told her sorry every day. I always cried, and it felt like my heart was as heavy as the stone sitting on that patch of grass covering our baby.

  About a year after Jessie died, I went to the cemetery on a beautiful day and everything was quiet—even the birds. I thought about everything I could’ve done different, how she might still be here if I hadn’t lost my temper, and I cried again. Then the tiniest breeze began blowing and I heard something. Do you remember how Jessie used to sing? Always funny little tunes and silly words. I heard her that day. She sang like a bird welcoming in the new spring. I knew then that she was happy and God was taking care of her.

  That doesn’t mean I don’t still blame myself the same way you do, but it means that I know it’s okay now for me to keep on living. Inside that music box, I found a slip of paper that says, “Don’t die with me.”

  I know it’s too late for us. Jessie took a piece of our hearts with her, and we just can’t seem to fit ours back together the right way. But I’m ready to live again, and I hope someday you will be, too. I love you, Leland. I forgave you a long time ago and now I’m forgiving myself. I just can’t live with your guilt anymore.

  Forgive yourself—allow God to forgive.

  ~Rhonda

  Leland read the note again and shed bitter tears. He touched the peeling edges of the paper on the corner of the music box and thought about what Rhonda had written. What did she mean about finding those words in the music box? He reached toward the center compartment and stopped. If he opened it, the music would start again. He didn’t think he could handle that right now.

  With careful steps, he walked into the sitting room and stared down at the rug underneath the coffee table. He remembered when Rhonda had picked it out from a booth at the county fair. Braided scraps of material of every shade of green one could imagine were woven together to form a swirling pattern that wound in ellipses to create the oval rug. And there near the center were the stains of heartache. The black shoe polish was now a dull gray and the material looked worn from scrubbing. Just blobs of darkness against the light green pattern, but Rhonda had known what those marks meant—they spoke to her heart.

  She had never said she hated him, but Leland figured she must have, and he had been wrong. She forgave him, but how could he ever forgive himself for killing his daughter?

  The dark spot on the rug looked blurry now through his tears and his throat felt dry, aching for a drink. Turning back toward the kitchen, he hurried to the icebox and pulled out a beer. He pried off the cap and drank so fast he choked, and alcohol sprayed everywhere as he coughed.

  He leaned against the sink and stared at the green stationery wondering how he could ever know if Rhonda really meant it when she said she forgave him. The beer felt icy cold in his hand. He swirled the liquid around the bottom of the bottle and drank some more. He reached into the icebox and grabbed the last three beer bottles and looked down the hallway.

  The wind snuck in through the open window and pushed against Rhonda’s note. The paper rattled as it skidded against the table and landed on the floor in front of Leland’s feet. With quick strides, he stumbled down the hallway, bumping into the wall and sending a picture of a rose bouquet crashing to the ground. He hurried into Jessie’s room and slammed the door then slid into his favorite spot on the floor and kept drinking.

  Late in the afternoon of the next day, Leland awoke drenched in his own sweat and urine. Surrounded by beer bottles dripping liquid that meshed with his pool of waste, he sniffed and retched. The bottles clanked against one another as he fumbled for the door handle, eager to leave the putrid smell of the room.

  Leland tried to stand, but fell back to his knees. He pulled the door open and crawled into the hallway. When he saw Rhonda’s note on the floor in front of him, his throat constricted and he shook his head.

  Closing his eyes, he dragged in a mouthful of air and listened. The trees outside thrashed against the roof and the chimes in the yard jangled in a wild windstorm. He opened his eyes and studied the piece of paper that had blown from the kitchen down the hall. He stared at the words above her signature—“Forgive yourself—allow God to forgive.”

  “Okay,” Leland croaked. “Jessie, I’ll try.” He fell on the floor and sobbed while the wind blew the scent of lavender down the hall.

  Chapter 4 ~ The Silver Lining

  September 1944 ~ Evelyn

  “Danny’s ten months old now, Mama. I can do this—I know things are tight.”

  Marie straightened a doily in the sitting room and pushed a pile of Danny’s blocks into the corner. “Times are tight for everyone right now. You don’t need to work. We’ll make it through.”

  “I know, but Christmas will be here before you know it and I want to help.” Evelyn rubbed at a spot on the loveseat and puffed a stray hair out of her eyes. She’d seen the worry her parents carried. It was true that everyone seemed to be barely scraping by. Every trip to the grocery store was like walking a tightrope. With only enough money for essentials, Evelyn felt if she took too much off the shelf, her balance on the tightrope would falter and she’d plummet to the ground. Evelyn hated feeling so helpless, just two steps away from disaster. “I love you and Dad, but I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

  “You’re not a burden. I’ve told you that before.”

  Her mother pressed her lips into a thin line, and Evelyn watched her shoulders lift as she took a deep breath. The choice to work part-time was right. Money had already been stretched when her parents took her and Danny in, and she knew from experience that the future was never certain.

  Danny babbled and sucked on a cloth rabbit. Last week Marie dug out the few pieces of material she had so she could teach Evelyn how to sew clothes for him. With shortages from the war, it was hard to find or afford material, so they cut up a worn pair of her father’s corduroys to make Danny a pair of overalls. Even though her parents had never indicated even the smallest hesitation in coming to her aid, she felt like a burden.

  She glanced at her mother. “It might be a good idea for me to put some money aside for the future. You and Dad aren’t going to live forever.”

  “Are you calling me old?” Marie’s eyes crinkled when she laughed. She swept an auburn strand of hair back into her bun, and Evelyn noticed the reddish streaks were accompanied by several gray hairs.

  “I want to be prepared for Danny’s future.”

  Marie nodded. “That’s a good point, but I don’t know how I feel about you working at the Silver Lining.”

  “I know, but it’s not just a lounge, there’s a nice restaurant, and it’s only for a few hours a night.” Evelyn straightened a picture of her parents rocking on their front porch. “Danny will be asleep for the better part of my shift.”

  Marie sighed. “Just be careful, dear. A lot of heartbreakers roam that place looking for their silver lining.”

  Evelyn tossed the dust rag at her mother. “I remember hearing a warning about staying away from soldiers, too.” She felt the thin line of gold hanging from her neck and thought of the picture of Jim in the locket. “That’s one time I’m glad I didn’t listen.”

  Marie smiled and shook her head. “You’d best go get ready.”

  Evelyn dressed carefully in a black skirt and dark gray sweater. The delicate pastels of her wardrobe were s
till tucked in the back of the closet. Once she’d tried on a pink dress but felt the color mocked her situation, adding a false cheerfulness to the heavy weight of sorrow in her heart. Sticking with dark tones seemed safe, especially tonight when she would begin work as a hostess at the Silver Lining.

  At a quarter to six, she poured a glass of lemonade and carried it to her father. He was in a reclining chair in the sitting room, looking out the window with a book on his lap. She noticed the bald spot on top of his head had grown shiny as the remnants of his sandy blond hair receded closer to his ears. The ice clinked against the tall glass as she set it next to him on the coffee table.

  He turned and smiled at her. “You ready for your first night?”

  Evelyn nodded. “A little nervous.”

  “You look lovely.” He reached out and took her hand. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Working at this place?”

  “I think it will be good for me. I know you don’t think Danny and I are a burden, but I want to help.”

  Her father held her eyes for another moment and exhaled. “Just be careful.”

  “I will.” Evelyn squeezed his hand and hurried to say good-bye to Danny.

  She kissed Danny on the cheek. “You be a good boy for Grandma and sleep tight.” Then she kissed her mother. “Thank you.”

  “Good luck,” Marie said. “I’m sure your father will be watching the clock at nine, so don’t be late.”

  Evelyn smiled. “I’ll hurry.” She stepped out onto the front porch and breathed in the smoky scent of jasmine and roses growing near the sidewalk. Her black heels clicked against the concrete, and she straightened her back as she headed toward her first night of work. A tiny flame of hope flickered. Hope for Danny snuggled next to Grandma. Hope for possibilities. Hope in the power of whispered memories from her life with Jim. Perhaps her heart could heal and she could live again without being afraid of having her bits of happiness snatched away.

  A light breeze followed her to the lounge six blocks away. It carried the scent of summertime Evelyn loved—cut grass, barbecues, soapy rags rubbing down the family car. When she opened the door of the Silver Lining, the smell of stale cigarette smoke assaulted her nostrils. She turned her head and inhaled one more fresh breath of air before closing the door.

  The lounge emanated the sultry mood of the patrons who dined regularly in the restaurant and frequented the establishment for their music and drinks. A silver chair rail set against dark wood paneling cast a gleam on the plush blue carpeting. Evelyn’s heels sank into the carpet as she eyed the stack of menus all adorned with the signature silver lining. She swallowed.

  “Good evening. Are you meeting a lucky gentleman tonight?” A man with a dark mustache and horn-rimmed glasses greeted her.

  “No, I’m Evelyn Patterson—the new hostess.”

  “Ah, welcome. I’m Philip.” He stepped back and motioned for her to follow him. “It’s nice you’re here. We’ve been shorthanded so I’ve been filling in as the lovely hostess.” He chuckled. “I think people will take better to someone who’s actually lovely. Come with me and we’ll let Frank know you’re here.”

  “Thanks.” Evelyn followed him into the lounge and past the bar to a messy table where Frank, the man who had hired her, sat and scribbled on a pad of paper.

  “The new girl’s here,” Philip announced. He winked at Evelyn and walked back to the front.

  Frank looked up and lifted his jowls into a thick grin. “Good, good. Our patrons will be in for a treat tonight. You look beautiful.”

  Evelyn blushed and nodded. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

  “Yes, yes. Well, first things first. I’d like you to take that ring off.” Frank took her hand and frowned at the gold band on her finger. “I thought you said your husband died in the war.”

  Evelyn pulled her hand free. “He did, but I—,”

  “Of course, of course. You’re still in mourning and all that. I understand, but we don’t want to give people the wrong idea when you decide to start dating again.” He pushed back from the table and adjusted the belt stretched under his ample belly. “Come with me and I’ll show you where you can put your things.”

  After Frank showed her the area where employees kept their belongings, he told her to meet him out front in a few minutes. Evelyn bit back tears and tried to stop the tremors in her fingers as she pulled her wedding ring off and slid it into her purse. For a moment, she thought about turning around and going back home. But she smoothed her hair and blinked away the tears instead.

  “Don’t pay him no mind. He’s only trying to protect us,” a woman with long, blonde hair said as she came around the corner.

  “Oh, I’m not.” Evelyn started, and then paused to regain her composure.

  “I’m LaRue. Frank told me the same thing when I started here six months ago.” The woman held out her hand and Evelyn shook it. LaRue tapped her ring finger and pointed at the pale line on Evelyn’s hand.

  “You’re a widow?” Evelyn asked.

  “Honey, every other woman under the age of thirty is a widow ’round here.” LaRue straightened the collar on her dress and glanced in the mirror. “Mine died almost three years ago.”

  Evelyn watched LaRue apply red lipstick and tried to find her voice. “Jim died about a year and a half ago.”

  “Here, put some of this on.” LaRue handed her the lipstick and Evelyn smoothed a thin coat to her rose-colored lips. LaRue nodded. “That’s better.” She put the lipstick back in her purse. “He has a good point, you know.”

  “Frank?” Evelyn asked.

  “Yes. If people come in here at first and see you wearing your wedding ring then later on when you find a beau and decide to take it off—it raises questions.”

  “But, I have a son.”

  “I have two little girls, and right about now I’m thanking Frank for making me take my ring off.” LaRue puckered her lips and smiled at her reflection.

  “You are?”

  “I met Billy on my way to work one night. Do you suppose he would’ve asked me out if I’d been wearing my ring?”

  “Well, no,” Evelyn said.

  “Right. And now he’s talking about putting another ring on my finger and living to make sure it stays there.”

  Evelyn glanced down at her slender fingers. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

  LaRue patted her arm. “You can put it back on after work.” She smiled and Evelyn relaxed a bit. “Frank sent me in here to help you. I’m a waitress now, but I started just like you, as a hostess.”

  “Thanks. I need some pointers.” Evelyn followed her back into the lounge and tried to pay attention to the various details LaRue shared.

  LaRue’s golden locks swayed as she walked, and the dim lighting contrasted with her flashy red lips and burgundy dress. Several men smiled at LaRue as she walked through the lounge. She smiled back and winked. Evelyn felt the stares flit from LaRue to her.

  Jim had told Evelyn so many times how beautiful she was and Evelyn adored the compliments. Was she ready for another man to speak flattering words to her?

  ~*~

  After a week at the Silver Lining, the shock of removing her ring before work had diminished to a dull throb. Evelyn had earned some tips, which she tucked away in an old purse in the bureau. Soon, she would have enough saved to purchase Christmas gifts for her parents and Danny.

  On Tuesday evening, she stood at the front entrance of the lounge and restaurant, where she could greet patrons. Leaning against the wood paneling, she admired the alcove banked on either side with a desk and an arrangement of fresh flowers. She used the desk to take reservations for parties and other events at the Silver Lining. With a dust cloth in hand, she polished the desk and checked the water level of the flowers.

  LaRue had explained that during the dinner rush Evelyn would feel like a race-horse running laps as she hurried back and forth to seat customers and help wherever else the lounge might be shorthanded. It was the truth, and
so Evelyn used the few minutes of downtime to tidy things up a bit.

  She checked her watch and hummed the tune from the music box. She sang a few words that matched the melody. Over the past few months, she’d been working out song lyrics to the tune that haunted and comforted her at the same time. Evelyn struggled with finding just the right words to match the emotions created by the memory of the song. Her voice was naturally high, so the first part of the song matched her pitch perfectly.

  As she straightened one of the desk drawers, she sang the first verse,

  There’s an angel on my shoulder.

  There’s an angel by my side.

  And he leads me and he guides me

  through the trials in my life.

  A current of fresh air tickled her cheek and she heard someone say, “Beautiful.” Evelyn started and looked up; she hadn’t heard the door open. The first things she noticed were the deep black lashes framing his green eyes. The second was when he took a step toward her. He favored his right leg, but it was hardly noticeable as he paused to hide the limp then continued forward. “That song—have I heard it before?”

  He had a short military-style haircut, and as he approached Evelyn he smiled, revealing even, white teeth. Evelyn touched her cheek in reaction to the heat she felt creeping up her face. “Uh, possibly. Does the tune sound familiar?” she asked hoping he hadn’t been close enough to hear the words clearly.

  He leaned toward her and she noticed the faint smell of motor oil. The dark suit he wore fit snugly across his broad shoulders. The blue tie looked rumpled as if it’d been tucked away in a closet for some time. He looked to be only a few years older than Evelyn’s twenty-one years.

  “Vaguely, but maybe it’s just reminiscent of another tune I like. Your voice is lovely.”

  Evelyn felt the blush on her cheeks deepen. When he reached out his hand, she noticed the fine lines of dark grime on his fingers and recognized the familiar stain of a mechanic’s hands. The mechanic who lived next door to her parents always had a bit of grime under a fingernail or etched into a wrinkle in his hand. She remembered how he’d told her with a wink, “No amount of scrubbing will erase the hard work of a mechanic.”