GI Brides

by Grace Livingston Hill

  And by this time, Lexie was so tired that the tears were very near the surface of her starry eyes. What a lovely, wonderful evening it had been, to have come after all that troubled morning!

  She looked down at her pretty white dress, and saw it was as crisp and trim as when she started away from home.

  And then suddenly it was time to catch the bus and go back to all that there was to call home. But the joy and the thrill lasted all the way home, and she didn’t let herself worry about what Elaine would say, or whether she would try to tell her about her flowers, or what would be coming the next day. She just sat quietly and enjoyed her evening over again. There might not be any more such lovely times coming to her ever again through her life. This might be the last one, but she would therefore cherish it, and sometimes go back to it in memory and enjoy it all over again.

  She found Cinda waiting for her at the corner when she got off the bus, and they walked slowly back to the house, Cinda carrying the basket of lilies and the box of roses and the orchid, Cinda gazing at her young lady and reveling in her sweetness in the dim moonlight. Cinda rejoicing that the gardenias had come from the soldier, and that people who had good taste and judgment had sent her flowers of distinction.

  It was Cinda who unfastened the gardenias and arranged and sprinkled them in their box for safekeeping over night, and it was Cinda who saw that the other flowers were sprinkled and cared for. It was Cinda who insisted that Lexie get to bed right away, and then lingered to look at the wonderful diploma and talk some more.

  She answered Lexie’s anxious questions.

  No, Elaine hadn’t eaten any supper, just drank a cup of strong tea. No, no lawyer had come that evening, but a telegram had arrived from Lawyer Thomas, and Elaine had made her read it to her because her own eyes were so swollen from weeping she couldn’t see. It said: “Impossible to contact witness at present time. I advise calling a halt in proceedings for the present. Am suddenly called away to West Coast for an indefinite period, and cannot do anything more for you at present,” signed B. Thomas.

  Lexie looked at her in wonder.

  “Oh!” she said, and, “Oh, isn’t God wonderful!”

  “Okay, Miss Lexie, only I don’t just follow you.”

  “Never mind, Cinda. I was just thinking aloud,” said Lexie, smiling. “But how did Elaine take this?”

  “Well, I can’t say she took it so good. First off, I thought she was fainted dead away, an’ then she bust right out cryin’ somethin’ fierce. But after whiles she got calmer, an’ now I think she’s asleep. I guess she was just plain exhausterated from all her carryin’s on. But now, Miss Lexie, you must get to bed.”

  So Lexie went to bed. She thought she was too happy to sleep, which wasn’t so at all, for she was soon sound asleep and dreaming of a land where the fragrance of gardenias was all about her, and a dark-eyed soldier was smiling at her across a great distance.

  Cinda was up early next morning. She had arranged it so that Bluebell had a little bed by herself near Angelica, and Lexie had her own room to herself. In the morning she skillfully suppressed the noisy children by promising to make cherry tarts for them if they would be good and quiet. So when she got them off for their morning play she went to Elaine, cheerily tidied up her room, and herself, and talked affably just as if the grumpy lady was all interest, though she wasn’t, but she heard the elaborate account of the evening in silence, and never spoke except to say, “Gardenias? Of course you don’t mean gardenias, Cinda. Nobody would send Lexie gardenias. They must have been snapdragons!”

  “No ma’am, they was gardenias. Great thick white leaves, an’ the most heavenly smell you ever smelled! It filled the whole room when she came in. I’ll go get the box an’ let you see ’em. An’ then there was a great wonderful basket of lilies an’ blue delphimium, that was from her old college classmates back in New England. An’ then some pink roses, an’ a funny-looking orchid from other town folks, I don’t rightly know their names yet. But they was swell flowers all right.” Elaine lay and listened hungrily, jealously, unable to believe that her little sister whom she chose to consider “plain” had been received with so much attention, and she finally retired into more tears and spent hours in vain regrets.

  But it was a gloomy-eyed sister that Lexie met the next morning when she took her breakfast tray in to her, and Elaine vouchsafed no reply to her pleasant “good morning,” except a fresh burst of tears. So for several days this went on, Elaine eating almost nothing, drinking strong coffee, refusing to talk, until Lexie began to feel that her sister was really ill now, and ventured to suggest that she send for a doctor. But Elaine only shook her head and wept again.

  So Lexie turned her attention to the children and began to coax them to stay at home. She taught them pleasant games, and some that were also useful, resulting in swept sidewalks and little garden plots. She offered prizes for picking up crumbs dropped, and keeping the rooms in order. Sometimes the prizes were privileges, sometimes stories, and sometimes little homemade articles that she had contrived herself for them out of scraps of bright cloth from the attic.

  Little by little Elaine came out of her shell and transferred herself from the bedroom to the living room, lay silently on the couch watching what went on, seldom smiling, seldom speaking, a great gloom over her face. She seemed like an utterly cowed, disheartened dictator who had come to an end of his schemes and couldn’t seem to get hold of life anymore. She had made money a sort of god, or rather what money would buy, and she could not seem to bring herself to take an interest in a life that was not full of luxury.

  But after a little, she began to watch Lexie, to see her kindly forgiveness, her utter lack of resentment for all she had tried to do to her, her happy expression, her willingness to serve whenever she could, and somehow her own life and ways began to stand out in sharp contrast. It wasn’t apparent that this was happening, of course.

  Lexie was praying for her sister now. Halfheartedly at first, perhaps, but as the days went on, with more faith. And this had much to do with the way Lexie lived her faith. Elaine couldn’t make it out, and more and more her selfish soul was condemned.

  Then one morning, there came a special delivery letter from Judge Foster’s office, saying that he was back at work again and he had a job for Lexie if she was still free. Would she call at the office as soon as convenient?

  So Lexie went flying across the meadow to the bus line quite early the next morning, neatly and simply attired, and was at the office almost as soon as Judge Foster arrived. When she came back late in the afternoon her face was shining with contentment. She told her sister that she had a job now and things would be a little easier for them all.

  Chapter 18

  There was one thing that troubled Lexie, as the days went on and she was continually happy in her work at the office, and the resultant money in hand, and that was that although she had written the day after commencement to thank her soldier for the wonderful flowers, she had not received any more letters from him. Was he done with her, and had those gardenias been a lovely gesture for good-bye?

  Well, if that was it, at least she was glad that she had had those gardenias and his delightful letters.

  And then a new thought came to trouble her. Was he worse again, unable to write? Perhaps near death’s door?

  But when her heart trembled at that thought she carried it to her Lord. He was in her Lord’s care. He loved him. He would take care of him and so she was able to throw that care away.

  Of course, too, there might be another explanation for his silence. He might have been sent into action again. He had hinted in his letters that there was such a possibility, and that he would like to go back, even if it meant being under fire again.

  The thought made her catch her breath, and then she remembered that God would be with him, even if he went under fire again. God had brought him through before. Surely He would not desert him now. She could rest on that. But even if he should be wounded or die, and she never have
the privilege of seeing him again on earth, there was something comforting in the thought that he was God’s own child and that she would surely meet him in heaven. And they could talk all this over sometime. That would be nice. Only there was a great wistfulness in her heart, for she did so want to see him now on earth. She did want to be able to tell him with her own lips how happy he had made her by sending her those gardenias, and how his letters were being treasured by her. And sometimes at night, after she had read her Bible, she would get out his letters and read them over. It seemed to help her to feel she had some Christian fellowship with someone. Of course if she never had anything else of this sort in her life, she at least had had this knowledge of a Christian friendship.

  Lexie went to church as often as she felt she could be spared from the difficulties at home, and sometimes she could coax some one or the other of the children to go with her. But they were not churchly minded children, and Elaine utterly refused to allow them to go to Sunday school because she had not the money to dress them in what she considered “suitable” clothes.

  But the church in their little suburb was a rather coldhearted place, more interested in church suppers and social affairs, or, at best, war work, than in getting near to God, and so there was not much real spiritual comfort to be found there, except as all real Christians can feel they are worshipping God when they come to His house. But Lexie felt very much alone, except when she was in the office where the mere nearness of Judge Foster comforted her. She knew he was a good man, a Christian man, and her father’s friend.

  The rest of her fellow-workers in the office were very pleasant, and Lexie felt that the lines had fallen to her in pleasant places as far as her work was concerned. Sometime she remembered how distressed she had been to give up the job she had been promised in her college town. This work in the judge’s office was so much more desirable, and much better pay, besides being among such congenial people. It was wonderful what God can do for one when He decides to change the background of one’s life, and takes away cherished hopes and plans, He always seems to be able to give His yielded ones something better when the right time comes. Something like that idea floated through Lexie’s mind occasionally as she voiced her daily prayers of thanksgiving.

  And yet, there were fires to endure at home, even now. Elaine had so far roused from her stupor of gloom to be quite insistent about certain little things, and could fly into a rage as easily as ever, and fill the house with more gloom. She could still incite her young children to open rebellion against simple household rules made for the comfort of all of them, and she could still sneer coldly, angrily, when Lexie told her firmly how much money she could afford to spend on the household, and utterly refused to lend her money for beauty parlors and new dresses or to write any letters for her to Bettinger Thomas asking when he was coming home.

  But fortunately these flares on the part of Elaine were not now daily occurrences, or nobody could have survived it. And Lexie could see that each time they happened her sister was more and more discouraged about any suit she was going to bring for nonexistent money. Less often she spoke of any such possibility as there having been money intended for her, and now and then she even said something pleasant about her stepmother. Nothing important. Just little sentences that gave Lexie a happier feeling toward her sister. Sentences like, “Your mother always had such good taste in dress, Lexie,” or “Nobody could make such nice desserts as your mother. She had a hand with her cooking.”

  But such little breaks of sunlight in the mental attitude were of course few and far between, and the daily routine was often like going through fire with no hope of a letup ahead.

  Then one day, after Lexie had about given up hope of ever hearing from her soldier again, a letter arrived. The envelope was very much battered up and had evidently been missent, or held up. The envelope was full of different directions. The wonder was that it ever reached her at all. She opened it almost in fear, like a message from a dead friend it seemed.

  The letter itself was brief.

  Dear Lexie:

  I am suddenly being taken away from this location, perhaps on furlough, or else to return to the front. It will be as God wills. I have no time to write, the order is imperative, and I do not yet know my destination. Will let you know as soon as I have opportunity.

  I hope you had a happy commencement and that my flowers got there in time.

  They have come for me and I must go. May God be with you to bless and help.

  With my love,

  Ben

  The letter was dated a long time ago. It must have been written around the time of her commencement, but apparently he had not yet received her own letter of thanks. And where was he now? Oh, there were so many terrible possibilities. He might have been in one of those transports that had been sunk, or in the clipper plane they said was missing, or his body might be lying at the bottom of the sea. He might have been captured by the enemy and in an internment camp somewhere, or have been shot, or—

  Stop! ordered her conscience. Haven’t you and he a God? Didn’t your God promise to be with you both? Hasn’t He done it before? And won’t He do it again? What right have you to anticipate horrors that may never be in God’s plan for either of you? Let God work it out. Just trust. That’s what he said he was going to do. You must not fall down on your job and go around looking glum. God does not forget, and He knows what He has planned for your good! When He has tried you He has promised that you shall come forth as gold.

  Lexie was learning a great deal from her Bible in these days, and she was growing closer to her Lord through prayer than she had ever been before. Somehow the things at home that used to seem like the hottest fire to her shrinking soul, did not seem so important now. They were merely experiences through which to pass. And she must pass through them bravely.

  But day after day Lexie kept looking for another letter. And still the days went on and none arrived.

  Morning after morning Lexie scanned the newspapers, noting the disasters reported to transport ships and other modes of soldier travel—a mail plane crashed and burned, all other possibilities—and then breathed a prayer that her soldier might not be involved. But though she scanned the lists of names of killed and wounded whenever there were any, still she found no Benedict Barron. But what had become of him?

  Of course there were ways of searching out what had happened to missing soldiers, and perhaps she could write somewhere in Washington and find out—perhaps, but had she, a young stranger practically, and not a relative, nor even a friend of long standing, a right to go to headquarters asking for his whereabouts? Perhaps he was tired of his correspondence with her, and had taken this way to vanish out of her life entirely. Well, perhaps—but certainly she would not feel justified in going to any government headquarters to trace out knowledge of him. Just an acquaintance was all she could possibly claim. There was just one place, one all-powerful Person to whom she might go, and that was her God, and his God. She would have to let it rest with that. After all it was God who was managing this whole thing, and He knew what He was doing.

  There came a bright, beautiful Sunday morning after a day of heavy rain, with a cool crispness in the air so heartening after the heat of the week that was just past.

  Lexie was wearing a new dress, just a cheap little blue dimity she had seen when she went to the store to get a few things for the children, and her preference now was always for blue dresses because she felt that it brought her back to the days when she used to swing on the gate, and the soldier had noticed that her dress was like her eyes. It was silly of course, and she often reproved this tendency in herself to buy blue things, but still they seemed to draw her irresistibly. And now she was wearing the dress for the first time.

  The children had been invited to go to some kind of a children’s Sunday school celebration with their playmates across the road, and they had cried to go, so Lexie had brought home some simple garments for them bought at a sale. Their mother had rather contempt
uously allowed them to wear them and go.

  So it was very still around the little white house. Only the sweet notes of some wood thrushes could be heard now and then, and the mountains in the distance had on their smiling, holy look as if the night’s rain had brought them comfort and serenity. The neighborhood was quiet, for they had all gone with their children to see the exercises in which some of their little ones were to have a part. The day seemed perfect.

  Elaine had retired to her room to weep, after she had watched her children in their new cheap garments trip happily away. Lexie sat down on the porch with her Bible, gazing off at the mountains, and taking in sweetness of the flowers that were blooming along the little front walk down to the white gate. And then she heard footsteps, brisk footsteps, coming up the street. Turning, she saw it was a soldier, tall, good looking, well set up, his uniform gleaming with its touches of gold emblems and brass buttons.

  Of course she watched him. Soldiers were always interesting to everybody now, during wartime, and especially to her, for there was one soldier that she longed very much to see. She made no excuses to herself about that now. He was her own soldier. She cared a very great deal about him. But of course, she probably never would see him again.

  The soldier came on, walking straight toward the white house as if he knew the way, had been there before, and had an aim in coming. He paused by the little white gate and looked at her with a nice smile. A smile she remembered from long ago.

  She started to her feet, and dropped her Bible on the chair. It was her soldier! It was Benedict Barron in the flesh, looking just like that picture she had of him up in her room. Smiling and looking as if he might ask her what her name was. And then he called it, and his voice was just as she remembered.

  “Lexie!” he said. He didn’t put a question mark after it as if he wasn’t certain about her. There was assurance in his tone.

  “Yes?” she said and flew down that path to the gate straight as a bird to its nest.