“After that, Sam said he’d needed to do a lot of thinking, and praying, and it came to him that his brother, his men, had sacrificed their lives so that others could live in freedom. God had spared him, and me, too, and it wasn’t up to either of us to question why. As for Jean-Claude and Tim, Sam’s brother, they had died in this terrible but necessary war. For either of us to throw away our lives now would be to dishonor them—my husband and Sam’s brother.”
“He was right, you know.”
Her grandmother nodded. “Sam left after that one visit. He wished me well and said he hoped I’d keep in touch. I waited a week before I wrote the first letter. Sam hadn’t given me many details of his war experiences, but deep down I knew they’d been as horrific as my own. In that, we had a bond.”
“So you and Grandpa Sam wrote letters to each other.”
Helen nodded again. “For six months we wrote, and every day I found more questions for him to answer. His letters were messages of encouragement and hope for us both. Oh, Ruth, how I wish you’d had the opportunity to know your grandfather. He was wise and kind and loving. He gave me a reason to live, a reason to go on. He taught me I could love again—and then he asked me to marry him.” Helen drew in a deep breath. “Sam wrote and asked me to be his wife, and I said no.”
“You refused?” Ruth asked, incredulous.
“I couldn’t leave my parents a second time.... Oh, I had a dozen excuses, all of them valid.”
“How did he convince you?”
Her smile was back. “He didn’t. In those days, one didn’t hop on a plane or even use the phone unless it was a dire emergency. For two weeks he was silent. No letters and no contact. Nothing. When I didn’t hear from him, I knew I never would again.”
This was the reason her grandmother had smiled when Ruth told her she hadn’t heard from Paul.
“I couldn’t stand it,” Helen admitted. “This soldier had become vitally important to me. For the first time since Jean-Claude died, I could feel. I could laugh and cry. I knew Sam was the one who’d taken this heavy burden of pain from my shoulders. Not only that, he loved me. Loved me,” she repeated, “and I’d turned him down when he asked me to share his life.”
“What did you do next?”
Helen smiled at the memory. “I sent a telegram that said three words. Yes. Yes. Yes. Then I boarded a train and five days later, I arrived in Washington State. When I stepped off the platform, my suitcase in hand, Sam was there with his entire family. We were married two weeks later. I knew no one, so he introduced me to his best friends and the women they loved. Those four became my dearest friends. They were the people who helped me adjust to normal life. They helped me find my new identity.” She shook her head slowly. “Not once in all the years your grandfather and I were together did I have a single regret.”
Ruth’s eyes were teary. “That’s a beautiful love story.”
“Now you’re living one of your own.”
Ruth didn’t see it like that. “I don’t want to be a military wife,” she said. “I can’t do it.”
“You love Paul.”
Ruth noted that her grandmother hadn’t made it a question. Helen knew that Ruth’s heart was linked with Paul’s. He was an honorable man, and he loved her. They didn’t need to have the same political beliefs as long as they respected each other’s views.
“Yes, Grandma, I love him.”
“And you miss him the same way I missed Sam.”
“I do.” It was freeing to Ruth to admit it. The depression that had hung over her for the past week lifted.
All at once Ruth knew exactly what she was going to do. Her decision was made.
Chapter 10
BARBARA GORDON ANSWERED THE DOORBELL, and the moment she saw Ruth, her eyes lit with delight. “Ruth, I’m so glad to see you!”
Ruth was instantly ushered into the house. She hadn’t been sure what kind of reception she’d get. After all, she’d disappointed and possibly hurt the Gordons’ son.
“I was so hoping you’d stop by,” Barbara continued as she led her into the kitchen.
Obediently Ruth followed. “I came because I don’t have a current address for Paul.”
“You plan on writing him?” Barbara seemed about to leap up and down and clap her hands.
“Actually, no.”
The happiness drained from the other woman’s eyes.
“I know it’s a bit old-fashioned, but I thought I’d send him a telegram.”
The delight was back in place. “Greg,” she shouted over her shoulder. “Ruth is here.”
Almost immediately Paul’s father joined them in the kitchen. His grin was as wide as his wife’s had been. “Good to see you, good to see you,” he said expansively.
“What did I tell you?” Barbara insisted.
The two of them stood there staring at her.
“About Paul’s address?” Ruth prodded.
“Oh, yes.” As if she’d woken from a trance, Barbara Gordon hurried into the other room, leaving Ruth alone with Paul’s father.
It was awkward at first, and Ruth felt the least she could do was explain the reason for her visit. “I miss Paul so much,” she told him. “I need his address.”
Greg Gordon nodded. “He’s missing you, too. Big-time.”
Ruth’s heart filled with hope. “He said that?”
“Not in those exact words,” Greg stated matter-of-factly. “But rest assured, my son is pretty miserable.”
“That’s wonderful.” Now it was Ruth who wanted to leap up and down and clap her hands.
“My son is miserable and you’re happy?” Greg asked, but a teasing light glinted in his eyes.
“Yes... No... Yes,” she quickly amended. “I just hope he’s been as miserable as I have.”
Greg’s smile faded. “No question there.”
The phone rang once; Barbara must have answered it right away. Within a few minutes she returned to the kitchen, carrying a portable phone. “It’s for you.”
Greg started toward her.
“Not you, honey,” she said, gesturing at Ruth. “The call is for Ruth.”
“Me?” She was startled. No one knew she’d come here. Anyone wanting to reach her would automatically call her cell. Her frown disappeared as she realized who it must be.
“Is it Paul?” she asked, her voice low and hopeful.
“It is. He thinks Greg’s about to get on the line.” She clasped her husband’s elbow. “Come on, honey, let’s give Ruth and Paul some privacy.” She was halfway out of the room when she turned back, caught Ruth’s eye and winked.
That was just the encouragement Ruth needed. Still, she felt decidedly nervous as she picked up the phone resting on the kitchen counter. After the way they’d parted, she didn’t know what to expect or how to react.
“Hello, Paul,” she said, hoping to sound calm and confident, neither of which she was.
Her greeting was followed by a slight hesitation. “Ruth?”
“Yes, it’s me.” Her voice was downright cheerful—and more than a little forced.
“What are you doing at my parents’ place?” he asked gruffly.
“Visiting.”
Again he paused, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of this. “I’d like to speak to my father.”
“I’m sorry, he and your mother left the room so you and I could talk.”
“About what?” He hadn’t warmed to her yet.
“Your calling ruins everything,” she told him. “I was going to send you a telegram. My grandmother sent one to my grandfather sixty years ago.”
“A telegram?”
“I know it’s outdated. It’s also rather romantic, I thought.”
“What did you intend to say in this telegram?”
> “I hadn’t decided. My first idea was to say the same thing Helen said to my grandfather. It was a short message—just three little words.”
“I love you?” He was warming up now.
“No.”
“No?” He seemed skeptical. “What else could it be? Helen loved him, didn’t she?”
“Oh, yes, but that was understood. Oh, Paul, I heard the rest of the story and it’s so beautiful, so compelling, you’ll see why she loved him as much as she did. Sam helped her look to the future and step out of the past.”
“You’re avoiding the question,” he said.
That confused her for a moment. “What’s the question?”
“Do you love me enough to accept me as a marine?”
“I wasn’t sending that answer by way of Western Union.” The answer that was going to change her life....
“You can tell me now,” he said casually.
“Before I do, you have to promise, on your word of honor as a United States marine, that you’ll never walk away from me like that again.”
“You think it was easy?” he demanded.
“I don’t care if it was easy or not, you can’t ever do it again.” His abandonment had hurt too much.
“All right,” he muttered. “I promise I’ll never walk away from you again.”
“Word of honor?”
“Word of honor.”
He’d earned it now. “I’m crazy about you, Paul Gordon. Crazy. Crazy in love with you. If having the marines as your career means that much to you, then I’ll adjust. I’ll find a way to make it work. But you need to compromise, too, when it comes to my career. I can’t just leave a teaching job in order to follow you somewhere.”
The last thing Ruth expected after her admission was a long stretch of silence.
Then, “Are you serious? You’ll accept my being in the military?”
“Yes. Do you think I’d do this otherwise?”
“No,” he told her. “But what you don’t know is that I’ve been thinking about giving up the marines.”
“Because of me?”
“Yes.”
“You were?” Never once had it occurred to Ruth that he’d consider such a thing.
“My dad and I have had a couple of long talks about it,” he went on to say.
“Tell me more.”
“You already know this part—I’m crazy about you, too. I wasn’t convinced I could find a way to live the rest of my life without you. One option I’ve looked into is training. I’ve talked to my commander about it, and he thinks it’s a good possibility. I’d be able to stay in the marines, but I’d be stationed in one place for a while.”
Ruth slumped onto a kitchen stool, feeling deliciously weak, too weak to stay upright. “Oh, Paul, that’s wonderful!”
“I felt like a fool,” he said. “I made my big stand, and I honestly felt I was right, but I didn’t have to force you to decide that very minute. My pride wouldn’t allow me to back off, though.”
“Pride carried me the first week,” she said. “Then I went to see my grandmother, and she told me how she met my grandfather at the end of the war. Their romance was as much of an adventure as everything else she told us.”
“She’s a very special woman,” Paul said. “Just like her granddaughter.”
“I’ll tell you everything later.”
“I can’t wait to hear it. I’m just wondering if history might repeat itself.”
“How?”
“I’m wondering if you’ll be my wife.”
“That’s the perfect question,” Ruth said, and it was perfect for what she had in mind.
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “I do believe I’ll send you that telegram after all.”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Epilogue
PAUL REACHED FOR RUTH’S HAND beneath the dining-room table. Ruth smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.
“Dinner was fabulous, Grandma,” Ruth said. She’d never expected her grandmother to go to all this effort. “I wish you hadn’t worked so hard, though. Paul and I would’ve taken you out to eat.”
“Nonsense. It’s Christmas Eve. Besides, I rarely get the opportunity to cook for anyone these days. I enjoyed it. And it’s such a treat to have the two of you all to myself.”
“Thank you so much for everything—especially the stockings. You know we’ll treasure them.”
“And thank you, my darling, for the beautiful memoir you’ve created.”
Ruth had made a new version of Helen’s story, including a number of photographs she’d found through her research. She’d scanned the poster declaring Helen and her first husband, Jean-Claude, criminals. She’d also inserted some details Helen had remembered more recently. Finally, she’d had it professionally bound and it was, even if she said so herself, a beautiful piece of work. The memoir was for her grandmother, true, but it was also for everyone in the Shelton family, now and in the future.
Ruth stood and carried the empty dinner plates to the sink. “Paul and I will do the dishes.”
“No need.”
“We insist,” Paul said.
“I don’t want to waste a minute of our time together with dishes,” Helen told him. “I hardly ever see you as it is.”
“Well, that should be changing soon,” Ruth said with a smile.
“I’ve requested Seattle as my next duty station,” Paul explained. “My parents are here, too, and we both love the Pacific Northwest.”
“California is fine, but this is where we want to make our home,” Ruth added.
“Let me get coffee—and the pie,” Helen said, walking into the kitchen behind them.
“You mean, there’s pie, as well as those yummy cookies?” Paul’s eyes lit up.
“Green tomato mincemeat. The tomatoes are from Charlotte Rhodes’s garden. It’s the best you’ll ever taste.”
“I love mincemeat,” Ruth said, resisting the urge to poke her husband, who was making a face.
Helen smiled. “Give it a try and if you don’t like it, I also have fruitcake.”
“I believe I’ll pass on both.”
Ruth’s grandmother ignored his comment and quietly dished up three small slices of pie with vanilla ice cream. Ruth helped her bring the plates into the dining room. Paul followed, carrying two cups and saucers, steaming with freshly brewed coffee. Ruth had declined, saying the pie was enough for her.
“One taste,” she said, waving her fork at him.
Paul grinned. “I doubt anyone could refuse you, Ruth. Especially me.”
“You keep thinking that, okay?”
Ruth watched as her husband sliced off a sliver of the pie. She laughed when she saw his expression change.
“Hey, this is good.”
Helen looked equally pleased. “I’ll tell Charlotte she made a convert out of you.” She paused to sip her coffee. “What are your plans for Christmas Day?”
Paul reached for Ruth’s hand once more. “First, we’re making you breakfast tomorrow morning. It’s the least we can do.” Helen had invited them to stay the night, and they’d accepted. “Then we’re driving to Seattle to spend the day with my parents.”
“And we’re going to visit Mom and Dad for New Year’s,” Ruth said.
“Our Christmas vacation worked out perfectly, since I was able to get a week’s leave at the same time Ruth finished teaching for the semester.”
“There’s nothing like being with family over the holidays.” Helen nodded.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Ruth turned to her husband, who sent her a smile. “Besides, we have news to share...the kind of news we wanted to tell you in person.”
Helen stared at them expectantly.
“We’re going to make you a grea
t-grandma,” Ruth announced, and awaited her grandmother’s reaction. To her surprise, Helen said nothing.
“Grandma Shelton, did you hear?” Paul prodded.
Helen’s face broke into a huge smile. “Congratulations. When are you due?”
“Not until June.”
“June? What a perfect month for a birthday.”
“Oh, Grandma, you’d say that about any month.”
“Probably,” Helen agreed. “I apologize for not responding right away. I was trying to calculate if I had enough time to knit you a special baby blanket and an extra Christmas stocking before then. I suspect I do.”
“Oh, Grandma,” Ruth said, struggling not to laugh.
“This is a blessed Christmas,” Helen said simply, happiness radiating from her face. “There was a time I didn’t believe I’d ever know joy again and yet I feel it every single day.”
“Merry Christmas, Grandma.”
“Merry Christmas to both of you. No—” she raised her coffee cup in a toast “—to all three of you.”
* * * * *
When We Touch
Dear Reader,
Christmas is a magical time—a time when life seems to hold more promise, when our problems seem to retreat, when we have more love for our fellow man, and generosity rules the day. Forgiveness isn’t always something that comes easily but, especially during the holidays, we can generally manage it when someone is penitent.
What happens, though, when the person we need to forgive is anything but deserving?
That’s the dilemma facing Olivia Lucero as she navigates this Christmas season in When We Touch, and I’d be interested to hear your take on how she resolves it, so feel free to drop me a line at my website (www.brendanovak.com). While you’re there, you can also enter my monthly giveaways, join my fan club, purchase fun Whiskey Creek items or learn more about my annual online auction for diabetes research, which runs every May. So far, thanks to the generosity of my many donors and shoppers, we’ve raised over $2.3 million!
And if you enjoy your visit to Whiskey Creek, definitely pick up the other books in this series. I’d also recommend trying my Dundee, Idaho series, complete at eight books.
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