Long Gone Girl

by Amy Rose Bennett

  With that, she turned on her heel and stalked off down the boardwalk, black curls bouncing and her skirts swishing in time with the exaggerated sway of her hips. A fury in yolk-yellow cotton.

  Jett puffed out a sigh of relief. Even though Dana had created a scene, he couldn’t help but feel he’d somehow dodged a bullet. Ignoring the curious stares still directed his way, he sprinted off toward his hotel. He only had twenty minutes to get ready before he met up with Ginny now.

  And he wasn’t going to miss that date for the world. After his run-in with Dana, one thing was clear in his mind—he was more certain than ever that Ginny Williams might just be the girl for him.

  ***

  Jett managed to make it to the orange-aide stand with a minute to spare, but glancing around the Pavilion, he couldn’t see Ginny yet. Or Dana, thank God. With any luck, Miss Whitney had turned tail and was heading back to her parents’ grand house in The Palisades.

  The last thing he needed was Dana screwing up his chances with Ginny by reinforcing her long-held perception that he was untrustworthy. He had his battle plan sorted. But carrying it out was dependent on Ginny turning up. He prayed she hadn’t changed her mind.

  He scanned the noisy throng of beach-goers again but there was still no sign of Ginny’s distinctive strawberry blonde hair. Crazy how he felt as nervous as a sixteen-year-old about to go on his first date. With a churning stomach and sweaty palms, he decided he actually felt worse than when he’d flown his first sortie in Korea.

  He needed to pull himself together, and fast, because there she was, walking toward him in figure-hugging white Capri pants and a pale blue blouse. With her thick, naturally waving hair pulled back simply into a ponytail and not a scrap of make-up on, she looked as fresh and beautiful as a fine summer’s day. And when she made eye contact with him and smiled, his heart cart-wheeled in his chest.

  It was time to put Operation Ginny into action.

  ***

  Ginny threaded her way through the crowd in Jenkinson’s Pavilion, pulse racing, her stomach aflutter with what felt like a swarm of butterflies. For at least the hundredth time she questioned herself as to why she had so readily agreed to Jett’s suggestion. Part of it was curiosity. After all these years, she really did want to hear what sort of an explanation he had for his unforgiveable behavior on prom night. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t deny her strong physical attraction to him. It was as if the man had a strange, magnetic pull on her that she was simply unable to resist. Logic and common sense didn’t enter into the equation where Jett Kelly Junior was concerned. They never had and they probably never would.

  Sighing in resignation, she pushed a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes, searching for Jett’s distinctively tall form and dark good looks amongst the small group of people clustered around the orange-aide stand.

  And then Ginny saw him and her breath hitched and her stomach flipped like she was on the downward plunge of a roller-coaster ride. He leaned against a white-washed wooden post, one denim-clad, muscular leg bent casually at a slight angle—effortlessly, jaw-droppingly handsome, dressed simply in scuffed boots, jeans and a tight, white T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and wide shoulders—a living advertisement for sex.

  Yes. That was the root of her problem. She didn’t have unresolved feelings for Jett. He just made her hormones go wild. That was all. Period. Ironically, she’d made him promise not to try anything. However, it seemed she was equally as guilty when it came to harboring lustful thoughts. But surely she could control herself for a few hours.

  If she was to retain any semblance of self-respect, she had to.

  As if sensing her approach, Jett’s hot-blue gaze settled on her and without conscious thought, her mouth immediately curved into a silly smile. The smile of a love-struck teenage girl. So much for staying in control.

  “Hey,” he called and pushed away from the post. His answering smile was soft. “I’m really glad you came.”

  Ginny swallowed, willing herself to stay strong. “You were worried I wouldn’t?”

  He smiled sheepishly. Disarmingly. “Well, to be perfectly honest, yes,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and she couldn’t help but notice the considerable bulge of his biceps as his arm moved. “You don’t have much reason to trust me, given my track record. I’d have understood if you’d changed your mind.”

  Oh, he was smooth, Ginny would give him that. But despite her wariness and cynicism, she would make the effort to hear him out. “I will admit that you’ve piqued my interest,” she conceded, then immediately regretted her choice of words. His interest was clearly piqued also, but perhaps for a different reason. His intent gaze, the way it wandered over her face, traced over her lips before returning to her eyes, made her blush hotly. Made her forget what she wanted to say next. She swallowed nervously and glanced away. Tongue-tied. She hated feeling so awkward. Completely unlike her usual, clinical, in-control self. Desperately, she clutched at words, any words. Focus on the mundane, the practical. “Perhaps we could get something to eat first—”

  “My thoughts exactly. What do you feel like?”

  You. Sweet Lord. Where had that come from? The word was on the tip of Ginny’s tongue and she had to bite her lip to stop it slipping it out. Again, she glanced around the Pavilion, looking anywhere but Jett’s disconcerting blue eyes. There was a luncheonette, a seafood restaurant and a hot dog stand nearby. “A hot dog and a root beer,” she blurted out, then practically skittered away from Jett toward the stand, scrabbling in her purse for her wallet. She felt Jett’s hand on her bare arm and her heart skipped a beat.

  “It’s on me, Ginny,” he murmured near her ear, his voice low. “It’s the least I can do.”

  Oh boy. She certainly wasn’t going to think about the most he could do for her. If Ginny could have ordered a regular beer right now, to extinguish the flash of heat coursing through her body, she would have. She needed to calm down, and fast, before she really did or said something embarrassing.

  The next few minutes however afforded her some much needed respite from untoward thoughts as orders were placed, and food and drinks were handed over. Armed with a hot dog and an ice-cold bottle of root beer, Ginny then followed Jett out onto the boardwalk and took a seat beside him, underneath an umbrella shaded table. Pleased that she had managed to spend a whole five minutes cool and composed, and that Jett had continued to behave with the utmost decorum, she tucked into her hot dog and took in the view of the beach before her, happy to let companionable silence stretch between them.

  “So…” Jett set aside his napkin and root beer, then focused his attention back on her. “I only just recently heard—courtesy of my mother—that you were a surgical nurse stationed at one of the MASH Units.” His expression was serious and perhaps there was even a touch of admiration in his gaze. “Pretty heavy stuff, Ginny.”

  Ginny shrugged but what could she say? He was right. It was heavy stuff and she was still coming to terms with everything she had seen and done, but in the end, she was proud of her tenacity in such a grueling and oftentimes nightmarish situation. And she was one of the lucky ones. Not a day didn’t go by that she thanked God for having remained physically unscathed. Unlike Charlie, and all the others she’d seen die when medical treatment hadn’t been enough. “I was a lieutenant with the 8063rd,” she said simply. “And my husband, Charlie…he was a surgeon with the 8076th…”

  Jett’s brows knitted together in a frown and he caught her gaze. “My sincere condolences to you. I’m sorry I didn’t offer them before…at the beach. I was just so surprised to see you, after such a long time.”

  “Thanks.” Ginny looked back at the shore, resisting the urge to cry. Instead, she focused on the antics of a nearby group of children squealing with delight as they poured buckets of water over their sandcastle. She appreciated Jett’s gesture, but any offer of sympathy usually brought on tears. Even now she could feel the hot sting of them and her vision misted. She blinked again
and swallowed to alleviate the constriction in her throat before attempting to speak again. “I was surprised to see you too. Although my grandmother did tell me you were a pilot with the air force. I guess the gossip grapevine is still alive and flourishing in Ridgewood, if nothing else.” She met his gaze and managed a small smile. “You’re a captain I presume?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He smiled back. “I was with the 94th Fighter Squadron, flying the F86-Sabre.”

  A fighter jock well and truly. Ginny was quietly impressed. “You must have won more than your fair share of dog-fights then.”

  Jett took another slug of his root beer then shrugged. “As you would know, you do what you need to do to get through. And there were occasions when a good dose of luck played a part as well.”

  Ginny nodded in agreement then took another sip of her own beer, taking a moment to reflect on what Jett had just said—and to be grateful that she was simply alive and sitting here safe and sound at the beach on such a beautiful day. It seemed they had more in common than she’d anticipated. But it shouldn’t really surprise her that sharing such intense, albeit slightly different experiences would engender a budding feeling of camaraderie. It was only natural after all.

  That was how she and Charlie had connected so quickly. In fact, they’d gotten engaged within four weeks of meeting and married soon after. But then, after only a handful of conjugal meetings, he’d been killed. As awful as it sounded, there was some truth in what her mother had said earlier this morning. Sometimes Ginny even wondered if her marriage had ever really happened, that she had imagined the whole thing. It some ways, it felt like someone else’s life.

  She sighed heavily and brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye. “Unfortunately luck wasn’t on Charlie’s side.”

  Jett didn’t comment, just waited for her to continue. Or not. She was grateful for his empathetic silence. He would have lost friends too.

  “He was killed during a patient transfer from his unit to the 8063rd,” she eventually said. “The ambulance was hit by a mortar attack soon after they left. They weren’t that far from the Front. We’d only been married for two months. So I guess you could say my marriage was over before it ever really began.”

  Jett reached forward and covered her hand with his and squeezed gently. “That’s rough, Ginny.”

  “Yeah…it was for a while.” Ginny let herself enjoy the feel of Jett’s strong hand holding hers. It offered reassurance and moreover—it showed he understood. “I could have been discharged home at that point but I opted to stay on. I told myself I was a good nurse and I still had something to offer, when I guess what I was really doing was burying myself in my work. But like you said, Jett, you do what you need to do to get by.”

  “When did you get back?” he asked and withdrew his hand.

  Ginny noticed the absence of his touch more than she wanted to. “June. I’ve been working at the county hospital as a regular staff nurse but…” She sighed and her gaze drifted to the horizon where a low bank of grey clouds was building up over the sea. “It’s hard being back home, living with my family again. The world seems different somehow…I’m different somehow.”

  “I know what you mean.” Jett crossed his arms and leaned forward on the table, his gaze also on the deep blue Atlantic. “War changes you. It makes you see what’s really important in life.” He turned back and Ginny couldn’t help but meet his gaze—the expression in his eyes was serious yet earnest. “Which leads me to broach the topic of the elephant in the corner, so to speak...” Jett paused, his shoulders heaving as he drew a steadying breath. “I’m not the same teenage jerk you used to know, Ginny. But even back then…I wasn’t as bad as you probably thought I was.”

  “I believe you when you say you’re different now, Jett. I can see that. But…” Ginny closed her eyes, mortified that her voice was quivering, but she couldn’t seem to control it. The hurt inside her suddenly felt as fresh as when he’d first wounded her nearly a decade ago. “What you did…It was cruel and humiliating…I just don’t know if I can get past that.”

  Five

  Ridgewood High School, 26th May 1944

  A wallflower. Ginny had known, deep down in her bones, that she was destined to be one from as long ago as her Sophomore year. She and boys…well they just didn’t mix. She couldn’t be bothered with their inanity and they kept their distance, which was usually just fine with her. But that didn’t make it any easier to deal with tonight though, not as she sat on a narrow wooden bench along the gymnasium wall, next to four other woebegone girls—including her best friend Bridget—who were all just like her. Stiff with boredom and flat with dejection, Ginny closed her eyes to shut out the vision of all the other teenage couples shuffling about the floor to a poorly played version of Glen Miller’s ‘Moonlight Serenade’; tried to imagine she was on a moonlit shore—perhaps Point Pleasant, her favorite beach—with only the waves and the stars for company.

  That she was anywhere but here.

  Thank heavens the night was nearly over. She hated dancing at the best of times and had been forced to participate in a progressive barn dance and waltz earlier in the evening—which she might have endured without too much pain, but for the fact that both times she’d also been briefly partnered with Jefferson Kelly—who was not only her academic nemesis in both math and chemistry, but also the bane of her social existence.

  Too smart, too athletic, too good-looking, too wealthy a family… Just too everything. Every time she saw Jett, every time he walked by, she never failed to blush. As for speaking to him, she could barely string two words together without stammering. It wasn’t fair that the boy she was most intimidated by was also the boy she was hopelessly attracted to. To make matters worse, that said boy was dating the girl she most despised—the perkily pretty, blonde, and downright mean, Loretta Carlson.

  When Jett and Loretta had glided past a few minutes ago, she could have sworn that Loretta had smirked at her, then had whispered something—and knowing Loretta it was probably something catty—in Jett’s ear. If Ginny never saw that girl again after high school, it would be too soon.

  “Ginny? May I have the next dance?”

  Bridget gasped and Ginny’s eyes flew open. Then her heart stopped—literally. Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Jett was standing right in front of her, asking her to dance? It wasn’t possible. She must be crazy. Or maybe she’d fainted. And where on earth was Loretta? Ginny glanced at a gaping Bridget and then the other girls beside her, convinced she was mistaken, but when her gaze returned to Jett, he was looking straight at her.

  “Ginny?” he prompted. “I can see I’ve startled you, but…” Jett ran a hand through his short black hair. Was he nervous? Surely not. However he swallowed and started again. “School’s nearly over, forever, and well…I just wondered if you’d care to dance with me… But if you’d prefer not to…”

  Ginny released the breath she’d been holding and her voice emerged in a great, breathless rush. “No…I mean yes…I’ll dance with you.”

  She must have taken leave of her senses to be accepting his invitation, but she simply couldn’t resist. Ignoring the stares and whispers of everyone around them, she reached out and took Jett’s offered hand just as the strains of another slow dance number, ‘Be Careful It’s My Heart’ began to play.

  How could she feel both entranced and terrified at the same time? Heart pounding, body trembling, she took up the required position in Jett’s arms, staring at her hand resting upon his broad, suit-clad shoulder because she was too overwhelmed to look at his handsome face or meet his sky-blue eyes. He was so, so tall, and smelled so good up close—she had the sudden and strange urge to bury her nose against his neck or shirtfront. She hadn’t anticipated feeling this way—light-headed, breathless, giddy with feelings she couldn’t—no wouldn’t put a name too. Perhaps knowing that she would be spending an entire song’s worth of minutes in Jett’s arms, rather than just a brief, thirty second turn in an impersonal, progressive dance
was making her react so oddly. The palm and fingers of her right hand tingled with strange electric heat beneath Jett’s hold and she could clearly feel his other hand, warm and strong against the small of her back as he began to guide her effortlessly about the floor in a slow, measured basic foxtrot. He was even good at dancing.

  She bet he was even better at kissing. Oh heavens. What’s wrong with me? She gave a silent prayer of thanks that the lighting in the gymnasium was presently dim, hiding the fact that her cheeks were aflame with embarrassment. Jett has a girlfriend and he is too arrogant for words, most of the time. Quit being a fool, Ginny. This means—you mean—nothing to him.

  So why was he pulling her in closer to his chest and resting his head against hers? His warm breath tickled the curls at her temple and she shivered as a strange, warmth began to pulse low in her belly. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, at last letting herself be seduced by the beguiling music and Jett’s firm yet gentle touch. Whatever happened after this—even if the whole school laughed at her and Loretta tipped a bowlful of punch over her—she would remember this blissful moment and treasure it.

  “You’re a great dancer, Ginny,” he murmured against her hair. “Yet you’ve been sitting on the sidelines for most of the night. Do you have a boyfriend none of us here at school knows about? A college boy?”

  Ginny stiffened a little and almost stumbled. What an odd question. “No. No one,” she replied, her brows dipping in a confused frown as she pulled back a little to meet his gaze. “Why would you even think to ask me such a thing?”