As the days rolled by, a doctor administered shots for everything from typhoid and tetanus to yellow fever and bubonic plague. Klayne’s friend Bob complained if the doc poked him one more time, he’d start leaking fluid through all the holes in his skin.
Between training and contemplating their futures, some of the soldiers fished, others wrote letters home. A few of the wives and families of the men arrived, staying in a hotel just down the road from the base.
Klayne often took the letter from Delaney along with the photographs from their wedding day and walked out to a secluded area. There, he could think about his brief time with her without being disturbed.
He’d return from those walks somber and withdrawn, but most of the men didn’t notice. The majority of them already knew Klayne was a loner who kept mostly to himself. With the exception of Bob, he didn’t often socialize, although he was always friendly and willing to lend a hand.
In the wee morning hours of March 24, orders came down to prepare to leave immediately. Half-awake and caught by surprise, the men rushed to gather their things. Encouraged to set their affairs in order and hurry to their planes, they received additional warnings to make no mention of their mission. Another opportunity to back out of the mission was extended to each man, but Klayne refused. “I’m in this until it’s finished,” he told his commanding officer.
After packing a canvas B-4 bag with items he deemed essential, Klayne tucked the rest of his belongings into his footlocker then sat down and penned a letter to his wife.
Every day for the past several weeks, he’d wanted to write her, but hadn’t. He’d convinced himself it would be easier for her if he just disappeared from her life. Yet, as he sat down that morning and put pen to paper, he wished he’d kept in touch with her. The one letter he had from her showed signs of wear from being read so many times. He knew she would have written to him had he asked.
Now, it was too late to worry about it. From that moment forward until the mission was complete, he wouldn’t be able to correspond with her at all.
He finished the letter, added it to the top of the footlocker of his belongings and shipped it off to her. While he was at it, he wrote a brief note to Mr. Campanelli, thanking him for the photographs and his kindness, assuring the man he would never know what a treasure the images had been to him.
Weeks ago, Klayne had made certain his financial affairs were in shape, with Delaney listed as a beneficiary if anything should happen to him.
As he hustled to leave, he sent up a prayer that he’d survive whatever awaited him.
Klayne stowed his bag and climbed into his crew’s plane, sliding on his back down the bombardier’s crawlway to the nose of the plane. The “greenhouse,” a shell of light, durable plastic covering the bombardier’s area of the nose, shielded him from the elements, but allowed him the best view. It also left him exposed if they happened to take frontal fire from the enemy.
Determined not to worry about that, at least not now, Klayne sat back and prepared to enjoy the cross-country trip from Florida to Sacramento where the planes would land at McClellan Field for final modifications and tune-ups.
The colonel in charge of the operation ordered the men to use the trip as another training exercise, encouraging them to test fuel consumption, and buzz the countryside, just as they might over enemy territory.
Excited for the adventure, Klayne and the crew had a memorable trip as the pilot hedge-hopped from Florida to Texas, where they stopped for the night. The pilot hugged the plane so close to the ground, Klayne could look up and see telegraph wires above them.
By unspoken agreement, the men decided since they might not live through the mission, to fly like they’d never flown before. They zoomed under bridges and terrorized herds of cattle. In Texas, they even chased a few cars off the road. As they landed in Sacramento, Klayne laughed as he watched the gunner from one of the other crews pull sagebrush from the bottom of his plane. Apparently, they weren’t the only crew flying low and having fun on their trip from one coast to the other.
While final work was completed on the planes, the men used their free time to relax and get into mischief. Some went bowling, others dancing. A few of the men even tossed dollar bills out a hotel window to see what kind of commotion might ensue.
For the most part, Klayne observed the shenanigans without participating. His mind and heart were at a ranch in Pendleton. He wondered if the cows had all calved, if the snow had finally melted, and if Delaney had yet forgiven him.
Certain if he did survive the mission he’d never make it home in time for Delaney’s birthday, he went shopping one evening and sent a gift to her in care of her friend Amy. He knew the girl would keep the gift a secret until Delaney’s birthday.
The aircrews left McClellan Field for the Alameda U.S. Naval Air Station, arriving April 1. Klayne sucked in a gulp as they landed, gaping at the sight of an American aircraft carrier where their planes were being loaded.
He stood with the other men, watching as Navy sailors drained all but a few gallons of fuel from the B-25s. The planes were towed down the pier by a machine referred to as a donkey then lifted by crane onto the carrier’s deck. Klayne, like many of the men on this mission, had never been on board a carrier or a Naval vessel.
Awed by the size of the carrier and the sudden flood of patriotism that washed over him, Klayne hid his feelings behind an indifferent look. Beside him, Bob animatedly discussed the proceedings as they boarded the carrier. Respectfully, they saluted the American flag and the officer of the deck before going to keep an eye on the planes. The carrier soon departed the pier, setting anchor in a berth for the night.
Late that afternoon, the men were given one last night of freedom. Klayne would have gladly remained at his bunk, but Bob wouldn’t hear of it.
“Come on, old man, let’s see what sort of trouble we can stir up before we head out,” Bob said, giving Klayne a push onto the boat waiting to transport the soldiers back to land.
Many of them gravitated to a rooftop bar at a swanky hotel. While some downed whiskey like water, Klayne drank Coca Cola and brooded. Desperately, he wished he could spend just one more night with Delaney. He’d even settle for an hour. Just long enough to hear her laugh, see her eyes dance with the life and vibrancy he so closely associated with her.
Aware of his sullen mood, Bob thumped him on the shoulder. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
Klayne nodded and followed his friend outside. He’d decided weeks ago if he was going to die at the hand of an enemy, it wouldn’t be quite as hard to face it with a friend at his side. He and Bob had gotten to know one another better. They’d been stationed together for more than a year. In that time, Klayne had learned many things about his friend, including the fact Bob had a wife and two beautiful little girls. He marveled that a man two years his junior had already settled down and started a family.
“How’s Norene and the girls?” he asked as they strolled down the sidewalk with no destination in mind.
Bob grinned at him. “They’re good. Norene said Chrissy can recite the entire alphabet and count to twelve. Amelia just got her first tooth.” A wistful expression crossed his face and he sighed. “I sure hate not being able to see my girls and say goodbye in person.”
Klayne patted his friend once on the back. Demonstrations of affection were as foreign to him as the enemy territory they’d be flying to. Except when it came to Delaney. With her, it seemed so easy and natural.
Curious if her brother was still stationed at San Diego, Klayne thought about placing a call to him, then just as quickly discarded the idea. What would he say to a man he’d never met and perhaps never would. It was entirely possible Mac had no idea Delaney had wed.
He cleared his throat and patted Bob on the shoulder again before dropping his hand. “I’m sorry, Bob. It must be doubly hard to face this thing, knowing you’re leaving them behind. Did you at least get a chance to speak to them?”
“I did. Norene is staying wit
h her mother near Phoenix, so I called when we stopped there to fuel up on the flight out from Eglin. I’m just glad I had the opportunity to spend a week with them at Thanksgiving.”
“Me, too, Bob.” Klayne looked out at the night, clear and bright with a big moon shining overhead. In the distance, they could see the ship at anchor with the B-25s silhouetted against the night sky.
For several long, quiet moments, they stared at the carrier and planes. “Where do you really think we’re going, Klayne?” Bob asked.
Klayne shrugged then glanced around to make sure they were alone. Noticing a couple walking near them, he kept his voice low. “I don’t know for certain, but I have a feeling it has a lot to do with avenging Pearl Harbor.”
Bob nodded. “That’s what I think, too. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
Forcing a cheerfulness he was far from feeling, Klayne pointed to a restaurant down the street. “If this is going to be our last meal, so to speak, what do you say we go order the biggest, best steaks that place has to offer. Then we should top it off with pie and plenty of ice cream.”
“You’re on!” Bob said, falling into step beside him. “Let’s make it a contest. If I finish my steak before you do, you have to tell me what’s in that envelope you take out and study every once in a while. You always look like you’re a million miles away when you do.”
Although Klayne had no intention of telling anyone, even Bob, about Delaney, he held out his hand. “It’s a bet. And if I win, you have to pay for my dinner and I plan to eat until I pop.”
Bob settled a hand on his shoulder and the two of them laughed as they walked across the street.
Chapter Twelve
The happy twitter of birdsong filled the air as Delaney rode a green broke horse around the corral by the barn. Mingled with the smells of the dirt in the enclosure and the distinctive aroma of the horse, she caught the welcome scents of spring.
The lilacs had not yet bloomed, but the flowers in the beds around the house were budding. The lawn started to turn green after shaking off the brown mantle of winter. Robins chirped along the fence and baby ducks huddled close to their protective mamas at the pond.
A rich, loamy fragrance wafted on the air.
As the world around her slowly came back to life after a cold, bitter winter, Delaney felt as though she, too, returned to the land of the living.
The first month after she married Klayne, she alternated between anxiety and anger at her absent husband. Maybe it was unrealistic, but she’d expected him to write to her, to let her know he was fine. He’d been gone two months, and she’d finally given up hope of hearing from him.
From the little he’d shared, she knew relationships weren’t his forte. Perhaps, since he’d never been taught the fine art of communicating with a spouse, he just didn’t realize a wife liked to know if her husband was alive and well from time to time.
Husband.
Delaney still hadn’t gotten used to thinking of the handsome man she’d so brashly married as the person she’d spend her life loving. Oh, it wasn’t the idea of loving him that threw her off. It was the fact they’d married and then he was gone the next morning. At times, he seemed more like a scrumptious dream that she’d abruptly awakened from.
Dill, in all his fatherly wisdom, had ranted and raved for two days about her marrying some fly-by-night soldier who’d never be around. Even though she knew her dad liked Klayne, it didn’t keep him from threatening to shoot him on sight if he ever dared show up at Sage Hills Ranch.
The few times Delaney had tried calmly to discuss why she married Klayne and how much she loved him, her father’s face turned red. He reiterated how stupid she’d been to tie herself to a man who would most likely never be seen there again.
Dill assumed Klayne concocted the story about shipping out the following day as a ruse to coerce Delaney into doing his bidding. He even went so far as to pay a visit to Judge Rawlings to confirm he legally married the couple then checked at the base to make sure Klayne was truly gone.
When Delaney found out what he’d done, she was understandably mortified. “Dad! How could you do something like that? It’s embarrassing and just… rude! Do you really think so little of me or my judgment that you presume I’d marry some no-good drifter?”
Dill glared at her, but kept his mouth shut. From that moment on, it became an unspoken pact that neither of them would mention Klayne.
To keep from having to answer a myriad of questions from people in Pendleton about where he was and when he’d return, Delaney swore the handful of people who knew she’d wed to secrecy. Although some gave her curious glances, they all abided by her wishes.
Life on the ranch continued moving forward much as it always did. The difference was that they’d lost all their ranch hands except for Butch and another cowboy who was too old to be drafted.
Delaney bit the inside of her cheek until it bled when it came time to say goodbye to the cowboys who had worked so hard for them. She promised if they ever needed work, they’d always have a place at Sage Hills.
Yank was the hardest to watch leave. The young man was fun and full of teasing. He’d often brightened her days, especially in the last few months since she’d married Klayne.
“Take care of yourself,” she said to the cheeky cowboy as she gave him a hug then handed him a basket full of food. “Write and let us know how you are from time to time.”
“I will, Dee. You keep those old codgers out of trouble until I get back from winning this war.” Yank gave her a broad grin then hurried out to the car waiting to take him to town.
With all the young men heading off to war, Delaney was hard pressed to find anyone to replace the cowboys who’d left the ranch. She had promises from four high school boys to work for her all summer, but until then, she and the three older cowboys struggled to keep up with the work.
Today was the first day she had a few extra minutes in what seemed like weeks. Instead of spending it inside, cleaning or tackling a pile of dirty clothes, she instead chose to ride a horse she’d started breaking weeks ago.
From her position on the back of the horse, the farm babies she could see made her smile. Calves cavorted in the pasture to her left while a handful of foals, legs long and spindly, raced around the pasture on the other side of the barn. There were little pink piglets down at the pigpen, fuzzy yellow chicks in the chicken coop, and even a litter of black and white kittens bedding down in an empty stall in the barn.
Spring was such a wonderful season of new hope and life. One Delaney generally enjoyed immensely. As she cantered the horse around the pen, it was hard not to celebrate the joy of such a pleasant spring day.
She’d just rounded the pen on Bandit when the toot of a car horn made the horse shy and hop a few steps before Delaney brought him under control.
She tied the horse to the middle pole of the fence before she climbed over it and walked to where the man who delivered their mail had parked near the back walk of the house. Generally, he left their mail in the box down on the road, so she wondered what brought him up to the house.
“Howdy!” he called, getting out of his car and opening the back door.
“Hello, Mr. Johnson. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling at the older man. He’d been carrying mail for as long as she could remember. Her dad mentioned one time that he thought the man had worked that same job for about forty years.
“It is a wonderful day, Dee.” He hefted what appeared to be an Army issued footlocker and held it out to her. “This came for you and I thought I might as well deliver it instead of making you drive all the way into town to pick it up.”
She smiled and reached for the trunk. “That’s so kind of you, Mr. Johnson. Thank you.”
“Well, I noticed it’s from a base in Florida, so I thought it might be something from Mac. I know how eagerly you look forward to news from him.”
Delaney knew for a fact Mac was on the West coast, not the East. She hid her curiosi
ty about who sent the footlocker and grinned at the mail carrier as she started to take the trunk from him.
He pulled back and tipped his head toward the porch. “This is kinda heavy. Why don’t I leave it on the porch for you? Dill can carry it inside later.”
Through sheer determination, she managed not to take the man to task for assuming she would be too weak to lift the heavy footlocker. In fact, she was sure she’d have an easier time maneuvering it up the porch steps than he would.
As he huffed and puffed, laboring to lift the heavy trunk up the steps, she kept her hands in her pockets, afraid she might reach out and wrangle it away from him. When he set it down on the porch with a relieved sigh, she hid her smile.
“Would you like to come in for a glass of iced tea or a cookie, Mr. Johnson?” she asked.
“Oh, I better not, Dee. I’ll be late getting finished with my route as it is.” The man hurried back to his car and she strolled down the walk to see him off. After he slid behind the wheel, he waved out the window. “Tell Dill I said hello.”
“I will, Mr. Johnson. Thanks again!” Delaney waved at the man and waited until he disappeared down the lane back to the road before racing up the porch steps and carrying the footlocker into the kitchen, setting it by the table.
The moment she opened it, a scent that had haunted her dreams every night since she met Klayne floated up to her.
“Klayne,” she whispered, plopping down in a kitchen chair as her legs gave way beneath her. She stared at a letter on top, written in the same hand that had penned the note she’d found on her pillow the day he left her.
Uncertain what the letter might say, what the footlocker held, she decided she’d wait until that night to read it. If she became an emotional mess, she didn’t want her father to witness it. He’d only remind her what a terrible decision she’d made and admonish her for not using better sense.
Sense had nothing to do with the reasons she married Klayne. Had her brain been functioning, she’d never have done more than offer him a polite hello at the New Year’s Eve party.
Home of Her Heart (Hearts of the War Book 2) Page 14