by Sarah Gay
“I may need some help keeping myself away from trouble and heartbreak,” Paxton said, handing Annie a loofah sponge and bar of soap. “I heard there’s a very pretty girl around here that can help with that.”
Greg exited the kitchen. “I have trouble as well, keeping me self away from all the pretty lasses.”
Melanie came to Annie’s side, and whispered in her ear, “I’m so sorry. Ever since that night, I can’t get him to stop. It’s like he’s developed split-personality disorder.”
“But, is it working?”
“I guess it is,” Melanie responded, pulling her husband into the hall with a kiss.
“What about me?” Paxton said. “Do I get some sugar?”
Annie ran her finger down his chest, streaking through a T and an H. She rubbed the black chalk into her fingertips, and, with a coquettish smile, said, “Well, I’m not so sure. You’re an absolute mess.”
Paxton leaned over, allowing Annie to wrap her hands around his neck. “Wait,” he stopped suddenly. “I never asked who your Hollywood clause is?”
“Are you kidding? You make them all look like little sissies.”
“Good answer.” His lips folded over hers.
She sighed, melting into his kiss. The warmth he created in her could have lit up the moonless sky.
As their lips dance, the sun dips into the sea. The sky stretches down to the earth, surrounding them in a perfect dome of stars.
Epilogue
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Three Months Later
The cool April rain pelted down on Annie’s rental car. She sat in the driver’s seat, waiting for a break in the showers. The last time she had been to this cemetery, he was being interred. Her shoulders slumped forward as her tears warmed her cheeks. She still felt the pain of his loss.
“I hope you know how much I love you. I hope you’re proud of me. Of this.”
She pulled the stapled sheets from her shoulder bag, and began reading aloud.
German, Czechoslovakian Border
October, 1945
The forest awakes. The crowded woods shiver to relieve themselves of the early morning chill. The tall, thin trees knit above our heads, creating a canopy of gold, auburn and green, preventing the early morning sunlight from reaching us. I miss the sun, but I can’t complain. The dense forest also provides excellent camouflage for my men.
The frostbitten greenery and freshly fallen leaves beneath my boots crackle with my every step, sending a zephyr, scented of moldering leaves, through the air. My worn military boots respond to the foliage’s crunch by releasing almost imperceptible squeals.
At times, my near perfect hearing is a curse, not a gift. Good genetics? Perhaps. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s not a gift to hear the whimperings of a man aware of his imminent death. My men have given me the alias of Bat, due to my abnormally acute hearing. My mind replays the voice of every man I’ve tried to save. I hear that near inaudible sound and run to save them. But they all die. Every one of them.
I look down at my feet, burning with pain. My boots have seen better days. The elite skills of my team require that we hoof it into battle, versus traveling in a comfortable, secure tank. It’s us against the enemy. The enemy is, at times, the natural elements, or our own broken bodies. With each squeaky step, my toes scream in anger. The frustration comes in knowing that the infection will not abate until I’m sufficiently able to maintain a hygienic routine; warm water, soap, and dry air. Is that too much to ask? It is in times of war.
It’s no longer a time of war. The war has ended. Why do they continue to fight us? Defeat is a difficult concept.
My mind wanders to my sweetheart. I think of her several times a day. I reach deep into my pocket. The satin piece of fabric runs through my fingertips.
I stop suddenly, raising my arm in the air to halt my men. My chest pounds with anxiety as the enemies’ voices ricochet off the trees in all directions. Where are they? They’re near, but it’s difficult to locate their position. Where are their voices emanating from?
I give the hand signal for my men to prepare their weapons as I retrieve a pair of binoculars from my inner jacket pocket. A hardy oak tree provides me with proper balance as I slowly rotate around, circling her twice as I scour the woods. I finally spot the enemies and single out their commander by his uniform and posture.
I examine the commanding officer’s stance, then his walk, then his face. My arms drop to my sides, causing the binoculars to bounce off the ground, wet and spongy with moistened leaves. I am overcome with a type of joy that I have not felt since the birth of my child, weeks before I was sent into this forest of death.
I drop to my knees in thanksgiving to a loving God who has saved my friend, and me. The past year of suppressing my fear, my anguish, my loneliness is realized in this one moment through unrelenting tears.
“What’s wrong with Bat?”
“What should we do?”
“Should we call this in?”
I hear their concerns, then command my men with authority. “Advance with me, but stay hidden. Weapons on target. If they shoot me, you know what to do.”
I nod to Harry, second in command. He’s the youngest under my direction, but the strongest and most capable. He gives me a nervous smile of acknowledgement; the smile an innocent school boy would give, where only half of his face rises.
As I slowly emerge from our place of concealment, with my arms raised at my sides, I can feel my open palms become balmy with salty sweat. The faces of my wife and young child play in my mind. It’s a motion picture of my boy’s first breath.
“Stay with me,” I whisper to them, as our enemies raise their weapons.
My eyes meet those of my enemy. He tilts his head and raises his chin for a better view. Does he know it’s me?
“Tim!” Henning yells as the sea of drones, beaten and weary, scuffle to the sides, allowing for his dignified passage through their center.
My eyes stay focused on Henning, my enemy, the commander of these men. He unbuttons his large overcoat to brandish the dagger attached at his side.
My men’s guns begin to click, the sound before the popping begins. My arm shoots up, notifying my men to keep their weapons on standby.
Henning pulls his dagger from his sheath and throws it to the ground, then takes a step toward me. I thrust my arms around him, pulling him into a hero’s embrace. There are no cheers, nor tears of joy, or sorrow. Only air, escaping from the lungs of emotionally exhausted men, a communal sigh of resignation and relief.
Annie blinked away her tears as the showers slowed to a light drizzle. She exited her car to find the cemetery in full bloom. The young, spring grass was a bright chartreuse mix of green and yellow. Red tulips sprung up in patches throughout the garden. She walked lightly between the headstones until she reached his resting place, next to his sweetheart.
“I finished. I wanted to share with you my favorite scene. You and Harry will always be remembered for your bravery and kindness. Your descendants will know what you did. You’ll always be in our hearts.” Annie rested the pages on his headstone. “My little flower girls will wear their pretty pastel dresses, with white hats and gloves. I wish you could come, but understand if you can’t make it. You have a date with your sweetheart.”
Afterword
Hannah and Timothy are relatively minor characters in this novel, How to Train a Husband. Their stories, however, are based on true events. Although she was never able to correspond with the American officer, Tim, who was stationed on the German border protecting her family, Hannah did meet Henning on a train in Germany. Her meeting with Henning, along with many other heartwarming stories, can be found in Sarah Gay’s historical fiction novel, Twisted Timber.
To learn more about the true events surrounding Hannah’s life living in war-torn Germany, including meeting Adolf Hitler as a young girl, experiencing the war through the eyes of a child, then emigrating to Atlanta, Georgia during the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s, pick up
a copy of Twisted Timber here.
If you would like to try Annie’s mouth-watering caramel recipe, sign up for Sarah’s newsletter, and we’ll email you the recipe.
Excerpt
Another book in the Must Love Dogs series
How to Love a Dog’s Best Friend
By Cami Checketts
As she walked up to the sprawling house, Brikelle noticed the gorgeous rustic flair with huge timbers supporting the porch and decorating the exterior. The stucco and rock mansion had to be over twenty thousand square feet. Even though the house was still getting the finishing touches of cabinets, plumbing, and lighting fixtures, there were already crews working on the grounds and all the concrete was poured.
She saw a new-looking four-door white truck with the logo of Jepson Cabinetry on the side parked next to the seven-car garage and a Land Rover with Timberline Construction screened on the back window. She decided to approach the front entrance rather than walk around to the garage, but as she reached the door, she didn’t know whether to knock or walk right in. When she nudged the door, it popped open and she stepped through, admiring the two-story foyer with windows and skylights bringing in plenty of natural light. The chandelier was classy, yet still had a trendy feel with rectangle panels and an oil-rubbed bronze finish.
The original interior designer had done a fabulous job. Brikelle hoped she could keep the ball rolling the way Mrs. Jensen wanted it. The general contractor, Joshua, had explained that his designer had been put on bed rest with an extremely difficult pregnancy and the doctors didn’t want her working at all, handing Brikelle the opportunity of a lifetime.
“There she is,” Joshua called out from the edge of the entry, next to wide staircases that went to the basement and the upstairs. The wrought iron railings decorating the staircases were perfect—funky yet still classy. “Come in, come in.”
She walked across the slate floor past arched doorways. From the plans she’d studied, the one on the right was going to be Mrs. Jensen’s office and the one on the left a formal living room. They both had great lighting with huge windows and she loved the beveled cherry floors.
“Great to see you.” She reached Joshua’s side and he gave her a quick handshake. Brikelle smiled at him, but her eyes were drawn to the massive great room with its two-story windows and all the woodwork. The style now was “anything goes,” which she heartily approved of—wood in every variety was integrated into this great room, and it was gorgeous.
At the end closest to the entrance where she stood, there was a formal dining area through an archway, the windows overlooking the patio and the lake beyond. The other end was the kitchen. Several more living areas could be seen through other porticos. This place was unreal and she got to decorate it. Yes!
The cabinet guys were busy in the kitchen, hanging doors. Knotty alder. It was one of her favorite woods for a kitchen with its knots and swirls giving such a distinctive cabin-type flair.
Her eyes swept over the men briefly. The one with his back to her had an extremely nice build, wide shoulders with the muscles stretching his T-shirt in just the right way. And his Levi’s fit—well, she shouldn’t dwell on it, but they definitely fit. She caught a glimpse of his profile and firm jawline with dark stubble that just screamed tough guy/handsome hottie. Why did he seem familiar?
Forcing herself to look back at Joshua, she smiled. “This is spectacular.”
“I thought you’d love it. Let me give you a tour, and then Emma should be here any minute to tell you some of her preferences. She’s honestly pretty easy to please.”
“Sounds great.” Her hands had started sweating again, and now her body was trembling slightly, but it was a good kind of nerves. This was so big! Her boss at Maison Design, Angela, would be thrilled that she landed this job. How incredibly lucky she’d been to meet Joshua. “Thank you for this opportunity.”
“You’re going to do great, and if Emma likes you, there will be lots of other projects.”
Brikelle could only grin at him. A month out of college and she was handed an in that every designer would be thrilled with.
Joshua turned and walked toward the kitchen. It was massive with an island bar that could probably seat twenty. The wood in the island was walnut, which was a great contrast to the light reddish-brown alder used in the rest of the kitchen. She glimpsed a sparkling white preparation kitchen off of the main kitchen, and beyond that the mudroom and laundry room.
“I want you to meet the cabinet and wood-working guru, Colt Jepson,” Joshua said.
The nicely built guy turned around with a grin on his face. “Nice to …” His voice trailed off and his eyes widened. She gasped as she recognized him. “The dog-hater,” he whispered, as if in shock to come face to face with her again.
“The guy who doesn’t control his dog,” she flung back, for lack of a better slam.
Joshua’s eyes darted back and forth between them, and the other cabinet guys paused in their work. Sparks crackled in the air, but not in a good way. Colt’s blue eyes reflected confusion and hurt. “You want me to lock up my innocent dog because you hate animals? He didn’t even do anything to you.”
“Nothing would make me happier than knowing that huge beast isn’t going to chase me next time I run up the canyon.” Brikelle took a step closer to him. That this Colt guy was so laid-back about his dog having chased and tormented her made her furious. He had no clue that it wasn’t hatred, it was sheer terror, but she refused to act intimidated around him. She knew his type—good-looking, tough construction guy who drove his big truck with his big dog hanging off of the tailgate. He imagined every woman would cower to his demands. She was going to show him she wasn’t some sissy he could push around. He reminded her of Bradley Cooper, one of the stars of the A-Team remake, with that handsome face, blue eyes, perfect amount of facial hair, and perpetual smirk, like he was patiently enduring her crazy diatribe. She’d wipe that smirk right off.
He sort of shook his head, making her advance even more. She wanted to poke him or something and stop him from looking at her like she was the irrational one.
“Ike is too gentle and old to hurt anybody,” he explained as if she was a small child. “My nieces and nephews chase him around and take turns riding on him.”
She was close enough she could finally poke, but she took it to the next level and smacked him on the chest. “What? Who in their right mind would let a little child be around a violent creature like that?”
Colt wrapped his hands around her arms and pulled her right up against his chest. It didn’t hurt, but it definitely wasn’t some romantic move. He was probably as ticked as she was, but instead of yelling like she was doing, he lowered his voice and said very slowly and softly, “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Please stop calling my innocent dog derogatory names and act like a professional.” His eyes flitted to Joshua for emphasis.
Joshua. She couldn’t jeopardize this job. She froze and whirled away from Colt, but his arms were still clasped around her. They were in a completely awkward embrace as they both realized that his crew and Joshua were not the only ones watching.
Mrs. Emmaline Jensen was at the edge of the great room, Joshua right next to her, and they were both studying the two of them. Joshua’s face was filled with concern, but Mrs. Jensen’s blue eyes lit up. She was a teeny thing with the most gorgeous white hair and a smile and eyes that age hadn’t dimmed. She was dressed in a classy navy-blue business suit, and the only jewelry she wore was a glittering diamond on her left hand. Brikelle remembered hearing her husband had passed away only a few months ago.
“Oh, this is delightful.” Emma clapped her hands together and beamed at the two of them, looking to Joshua. “Why didn’t you tell me my new designer and our favorite cabinet maker are a couple?”
Colt’s arms finally fell away from Brikelle, but she was too shocked to take a step away like she should’ve done.
“Oh, yeah, I did forget,” Joshua managed, giving a nervous chuckle a
nd recovering much quicker than either of them.
“Oh, I love happy couples. Now I must demand that both of you come stay with me next weekend for the celebration of my new house.” She gestured around. “It’s going to be a great party and if everything turns out the way I hope, I’m sure you’ll meet a lot of people who would want to hire both of you. Plus, I’d really love to chat about the condos I’m building near Snow Basin.”
Brikelle’s head was spinning and she had no clue how to respond. This woman assumed they were a couple and had just invited them to a huge party here next weekend? The work opportunities she’d casually flung around with the invite told Brikelle that she and the obnoxious cabinet shop owner would be very wise to not mess this up, but she didn’t want to lie and say she was part of a couple, especially with the man next to her.
“Um, wow.” Colt found his voice before she did. “I’m honored, Mrs. Jensen.”
“Call me, Emma.” She waved a hand. “I assume you’re married. Won’t this be fun, Brikelle? You can decorate the room you and your handsome husband will stay in next weekend.”
Brikelle was sure she was going to have heart failure. Married? Oh, no stinking way. She opened her mouth to clear things up, but Joshua beat her to it.
“What a great opportunity this will be for you.” He eyed her sternly. “Tell your husband you’ll see him later, and let’s take a tour and share your ideas with Emma.”
Brikelle swallowed and pivoted to face Colt. Her heart was thundering in her ears, and she had no clue how she’d just become involved in this confusing mess. The other cabinet workers had quietly returned to their work.
Colt studied her with his too-blue eyes. “See you later, sweetheart.” He stumbled over the word, and if Emma wasn’t watching she would’ve stomped on his foot or something.