by Sarah Sundin
Tom’s gaze darted around, and Mellie’s heart warmed as she visualized the numbers and equations zipping through his mind. She could watch him forever.
He led her under the bridge, a cool space that smelled of vegetation and old stone, and he ran his hand up along the arch. “Nice.”
“Very handsome.” Mellie took in every angle of his face, relieved at the shift in attention and glad to savor his presence.
Tom led her behind the bridge into a narrow triangle of shade. Then he wheeled to her, grabbed her around the waist, and pressed her back against the bridge, grinning. “Thought you could distract me?”
She laughed in surprise, but her laugh caught on the way out. He was so near, his mouth only inches from hers. She tried to give him a playful look. “I succeeded.”
“Not for long.” He twirled his fingers into her hair. “I’ve resisted you long enough.”
Unsure what to do with her hands, she wrapped them around his waist.
He drew her closer, his blue eyes liquid and warm. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Neither can I,” she whispered, overcome by the love in his eyes. Did her love shine as brightly?
“We’ll adjust.” His voice grew husky. He trailed his fingers across her cheek, then over her mouth, tracing the upper lip, exploring the lower, playing with them like clay, accepting her, loving her.
Even a kiss couldn’t feel as good as his touch, could it? Her eyes fluttered shut, but she forced them open so she wouldn’t miss a moment.
“I love you, Tom.” Her breath brushed over his fingers.
“I love you too.” He slid his hand behind her head, leaving her lips lonely, aching for more of him.
He bent his head closer, but paused, his eyes blurring into one before her. One last question, one last doubt hovered in the slim space between them.
“Forever.” She lifted her mouth to erase his doubts.
His lips caressed hers and melted into hers. She pressed him closer and slid her hands up his firm back. A soft moan escaped, but was it his or hers?
Love surrounded her, a palace built of letters and prayers, and glittering with their hopes and dreams. Music billowed in her head, and she knew she’d sing her nightingale’s song for him, only for him, for the rest of her life.
His kiss meandered over her cheek to her ear. “Oh, Mellie. My Mellie.”
She wanted to smile, but her lips felt tingly and thick. She pressed a kiss to the side of his neck above his collar. “I’m adjusting.”
“Not me. I need a lot more of those kisses.” He leaned his forehead against hers, and his content sigh warmed her.
Mellie stroked his cheek, memorizing the feel of him. As a child she’d studied this face in black-and-white, feeling for the little boy. For the last few months, she’d studied this face in living color, getting to know the man. Now she had the privilege to study this face in the flesh, loving the man.
“I can’t believe—” Her voice caught. “I’m so glad I cut out that newspaper clipping all those years ago.”
“And I’m glad I fetched your letter from the trash.” A smile twitched in one corner of his mouth. “Did you ever imagine . . . ?”
“That we’d fall in love? Never. Did you?”
“Nope. But God did.”
Mellie brushed her hand over his smooth hair. “I’m glad the Lord has a better imagination than we do.”
Tom didn’t speak or smile. He kissed her again, and that kiss said more than a hundred letters or a thousand smiles.
48
Tom burrowed his toes into the sand, which still retained the heat of the day. He tried to focus on the men’s conversation. Hard to do when he only wanted Mellie back at his side.
“Let me get this straight, Hutch.” Roger Cooper crossed his arms, then raised one hand to stroke his chin. “You’ve got a bachelor’s degree, same as Gill and Clint here, more than me and more than these ladies, and the Army made you an enlisted man?”
“Yes, sir.” Technical Sergeant John Hutchinson stood a few inches taller than Tom, with brown hair and eyes. “The Army only cares about ratings, and the position of pharmacist is rated as enlisted.”
“Drop the sir,” Clint said with a smile just visible under the darkening sky. “This is a party, and we won’t report you.”
“Not fair how the Army works,” Tom said, but his gaze roamed over Hutch’s shoulder. How long did it take ladies to change? Why did Mellie have to change at all? It was plenty warm and would be all evening. He sure wouldn’t mind if she stayed in her swimsuit.
The afternoon had been perfect—a picnic under their bridge, a bike ride back to the base, and a stroll to the beach, filling in the blank spots in their history together, frolicking in the surf, holding her close, kissing her soundly, her bare wet arms around his neck.
On the other hand, maybe it was best that she changed.
“Do you think the Pharmacy Corps will be the solution?” Clint asked.
Tom zoomed his attention back to the conversation and put on a serious face.
“It’s too soon to tell,” Hutch said. “Roosevelt signed the legislation only a month ago, and things move slowly in the Army.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Coop said.
Hutch dug his hands into the pockets of his rolled-up trousers. “Most pharmacists I know joined other services so they could get a commission. They fly planes, lead platoons, command ships. But I want to practice pharmacy.”
Tom nodded. He’d serve as a private as long as he could build.
Hutch raised his chin. “We hope the Corps will change things, allow us to practice our profession as officers, same as physicians, dentists, vets, and nurses.”
Speaking of nurses, feminine laughter rolled toward them, and three skirted silhouettes approached. Tom easily made out Mellie’s curvy silhouette.
“It’s about time,” Clint said in a loud voice. “What’d you gals do? Sew whole new outfits from scratch?”
“Yes, Clint. That’s exactly what we did.” Rose rolled her eyes. “You men slip trousers over wet trunks, throw on your shirts, don’t even do up the buttons, and you’re done. We ladies take care with our appearances.”
Tom laughed with the others but held his arm out for Mellie, and she slipped underneath where she belonged. He pressed a kiss to her head, her hair still damp and curly and smelling of saltwater.
“I missed you,” she whispered. Her arm circled his waist, and she raised that special smile, even more beautiful than before, relaxed and lit by love.
“I missed you too.” He didn’t care about the audience. He lowered a kiss to her lips.
“To-om,” she protested.
He winked at her and caressed her shoulder. “You didn’t complain earlier.”
“Oh brother,” Georgie said, but with a happy gleam in her eye. “Come on, Hutch. I want to introduce you around.”
Hutch gave them half a smile. “I haven’t known her long, but I do know when the lady gives an order, you follow.”
“You catch on quickly.” Georgie led him away. “Besides, those two couples will get mushier and mushier.”
“You’d be the same way,” Rose called. “If Ward were here.”
Mellie stiffened in Tom’s embrace, and Georgie shot Rose a strange look over her shoulder. What was that all about?
“Rose,” Mellie said once Georgie and Hutch had advanced down the beach. “Don’t give her a hard time. She’s fine.”
“She’s playing with fire. He’s engaged, and she might as well be.”
Clint jiggled Rose’s shoulder. “Nothing to fear. He’s enlisted. She’s an officer. They couldn’t date even if they wanted to.”
“Yeah.” Rose still looked suspicious.
“Don’t worry,” Mellie said. “She loves Ward, and she’s the most faithful soul I know.”
“What about me?” Tom ducked his chin to get her attention. “I resisted you because I loved you. How’s that for faithful?”
; She gave him a cute little smile with a wrinkle of her nose, an expression he wanted to see often. “You almost lost me in the process. How’s that for ironic?”
The thought made him shudder although the temperature hadn’t fallen below ninety. He drew her even closer to his side and fingered her damp curls. “I couldn’t . . . I can’t . . .” He coughed to rid his voice of the huskiness.
“Hey, they started the music,” Clint said. “Come on, Rose. Let’s go cut a sandy rug.”
Tom didn’t take his eyes off of Mellie. “Want to pretend to dance?”
“So we can hug and kiss in a socially acceptable manner?”
He clapped his hand over his heart. “Shocked. I’m shocked, I tell you. The thought never crossed my mind.”
“Really? It crossed mine.”
His chuckle stayed low in his throat. He led her to the area on the beach where the band played “Moonlight Serenade,” but past the crowd of dancing couples, close to the water, and he pulled her into his arms.
She laid her head on his shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have to go back to Milazzo. I wish we could be together.”
“Me too.” He rested his cheek on her head. Who knew where the war would send them next? They might be stationed close together again, but they could be sent to different continents. He rubbed her back, the blue cotton of her dress soft under his hands. “No matter what, we’ll be together forever.”
She raised her head, and forever shone in her eyes.
He swallowed hard. She wanted a future together as much as he did, but it was too early. “I warn you. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“Neither do I.”
“That’s why I’m not proposing right now.”
Mellie’s mouth fell open.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “That came out wrong. What I mean is we’re both new to this. We’re both new to genuine friendship, not to mention love. If it weren’t for that, I’d propose right now.”
“You would?” Her voice came out soft.
He nodded and gave her a little kiss. “I also want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. You’d be saddled with my name for the rest of your life. You need to think about that.”
“I already have. I love your name. It’s who you are, and I love you.”
Tom’s throat thickened and cut off speech. He whirled her around to the music and gazed up to the sky, where the first stars peeked out. Someone loved him for who he was, and not just anyone—the right one.
Mellie nestled her head under his chin and sang to the music, a love song for him. Lord willing, he would savor that voice for the rest of his life.
When the song ended, he cupped her face in his hand and kissed her, long and deep and sweet, and he felt her weight against him as if her knees had given way.
“Oh, Tom,” she murmured. “You’re undoing me.”
He gave her his best attempt at a roguish grin. “So you’ll remember me after I leave.”
“Oh, I will.” She pulled up straighter in his arms and took his face in her hands. “Just so you know, I agree with you about waiting, but my answer is yes.”
“Someday. Then we’ll travel and build bridges and raise little MacGillivers and you’ll sing us all to sleep every night.”
Her eyes glistened, and he lowered a kiss to the orchid petals of her lips. Their future soared between them, a bridge strung together with letters, suspended by prayers, bolted by love, and paved with their shared hopes and dreams.
He smiled, and the fullness of her smile grew under his. “A fine future indeed.”
Dear Reader,
Thank you for joining Tom and Mellie on this journey. If the locations in the story are unfamiliar, or you just love maps, please visit my website at www.sarahsundin.com for more detailed maps of the Algerian/Tunisian area and of Sicily with the story locations indicated.
The idea for the Wings of the Nightingale series came while researching my second novel, A Memory Between Us, in which the heroine becomes a flight nurse. The more I learned about the five hundred young women who pioneered medical air evacuation, the more I wanted to tell their stories. The 802nd Medical Air Evacuation Transport Squadron was one of the two original units, and on March 12, 1943, the 802nd flew the first official flight staffed by nurses.
Although all characters in this novel in the 802nd are fictional with the exception of the commanding officer, Capt. Frederick Guilford, the challenges they faced and the joys they shared are real.
Tom’s unit is based as closely as possible on the actual 809th Engineer Aviation Battalion. However, the highly mobile nature of this story and my desire to place Tom and Mellie together at certain times created a plot nightmare. To save myself hours of therapy, I created the fictional 908th Engineer Aviation Battalion. The airfields and battles are real; however, the details for the incidents at Kairouan and Ponte Olivo are fictional.
Acknowledgments
Sometimes writing a novel is supreme bliss, and sometimes it’s a sweaty smack-down match. I couldn’t do it alone.
Above all, thanks go to the Lord God, who showed me the greatest mercy of all and teaches me daily how to live out that mercy.
On my personal home front, my husband Dave, and my children Stephen, Anna, and Matthew humble me, put up with writer weirdness, and encourage me. I love you all!
In my desperate search for a rare, out-of-print book, I had the joy and honor of talking to Dorothy White Errair, president of the World War II Flight Nurse Association and an actual World War II flight nurse. I babbled something along the lines of, “You’re my hero!” Her daughter, Melinda Errair Bruckman, is dedicated to collecting and preserving these amazing women’s stories. Please visit their beautiful website at www.legendsofflightnurses.org. If you have information about any of the flight nurses, they’d love to hear from you.
The Stanford Auxiliary Library had that rare, out-of-print book, and the staff went above and beyond their duties to accommodate me. Thank you.
James Burfoot, whose grandfather, Frank Stocker, served in the 809th Engineer Aviation Battalion, sent me copies of his grandfather’s official documents, written narrative, photographs, and precious letters written to his young daughter. What a treasure. While story needs led me to create the fictional 908th, the details and color from these documents aided me immeasurably.
Thank you also to Warren Hower of Hower Research Associates, whose professional expertise and a whole lot of sleuthing located rare documents in the National Archives.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to my talented critique partners, Judy Gann, Bonnie Leon, Marci Seither, Ann Shorey, and Marcy Weydemuller. These lovely ladies offer great insight on writing and the friendship and prayer that sustain me.
As for prayer, I’m abundantly blessed by my vibrant church and small group. I’m convinced you guys account for 98 percent of my sales. Dave is appreciative, and you know what I mean.
Deepest thanks go to my agent, Rachel Kent of Books & Such Literary Agency, who pushed me to keep improving this book and encouraged me greatly. And I have to thank my editor, Vicki Crumpton. Not only does she keep buying my work, but she helps me improve and makes the editing process a joy. As for the team at Revell, I can only say, “Wow.” Their talent, support, and hard work are unsurpassed in the industry. Plus, they’re just a whole lot of fun.
And I’m so thankful for you, dear reader! Please visit my website at www.sarahsundin.com to leave a message, sign up for my quarterly newsletter, read about the history behind the story, and find tips on starting a book club. I pray you will keep growing as a new creation in Christ.
Discussion Questions
A long history of rejection causes people to protect themselves in various ways. Compare how Mellie, Tom, Larry, Goosie—and even Kay—protect themselves.
Our society can be harsh on women who don’t meet its standards of physical beauty. How do you see this in Mellie’s life? In the world around you? Do you find yourself subconsciously judging others
on their looks?
Tom’s story was inspired by a news article about a man facing execution who had a small son. What challenges did Tom face because of his father’s notoriety? What challenges do you see for children of infamous—or even famous—people?
What do you think of how Tom’s mother raised him? How would you have handled a similar situation?
Five hundred women served as flight nurses during World War II, and seventeen were killed in action. Considering the role of women at the time, flight nurses were pioneers in many ways. What ways do you see?
Sesame plays an important part in Tom’s life. How does Sesame help him? How has a pet helped you?
In the field, Tom and Mellie deal with a difficult way of life—mud, bugs, living on the go, and the constant threat of attack. How do the various characters deal with these situations? How would you?
How were letters vital to Tom’s and Mellie’s individual growth and to their relationship? Have you ever had a close correspondence with a pen pal?
How does Mellie handle condescension from Captain Maxwell and Sergeant Early? How have things changed since the 1940s?
Both Tom and Mellie were raised by the opposite-gender parent. What issues does that cause in their lives? What can single parents do to overcome these challenges?
Mellie comes to friendship late in life. What insights into friendship did you gain from her journey?
What insights into leadership do you gain from Tom’s example and from those around him?
What does Mellie learn about mercy through this story? Is there any way you need to show greater mercy to those around you?
Tom struggles to bridge his inner self and his outer self. Have you ever lived a less-than-genuine life? How did you find balance?