A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection

by Dianna Crawford

  Her heart gave a flip, and she smiled. “I’ll get ready and meet you in here.” She hurried upstairs to change and run a comb through her hair, taking care to avoid the bump that had formed.

  A date with Peter! Her stomach had a strange, nervous feeling, and she hoped she wouldn’t babble or, even worse, have nothing to say! She added a fresh coat of pink lipstick and returned to the shop, where Peter was examining the books in the glass case. “I’m ready,” she announced. He offered her his arm, and they stepped out of the shop and into the rain.

  Peter quickly raised his umbrella and pulled Ann close so they could share its protection. The patter of raindrops on the umbrella grew loud as Ann’s nearness left him tongue-tied. He looked down at her, and all he could think of was flowers. Her perfume smelled like some kind of spring blossom, and in her pink blouse, she reminded him of the delicate blooms he saw in window boxes near his flat. Her light brown hair and the pink in her cheeks added to the soft look. He swallowed hard as she smiled up at him.

  “Watch the puddle!” He pulled her to the side but not before her right foot splashed into the water. “Do you need to change shoes?” he asked apologetically.

  Ann shook her head. “I’m fine. I don’t want to make us late.”

  “We’ll let it go then—unless you start quacking,” he teased as her shoe sloshed with each step.

  Ann wrinkled her nose at him and gave him a gentle push toward a puddle.

  “Truce!” he declared. “From henceforth I promise to carry you across all puddles.”

  They approached their destination and saw a notice taped on the door. “Poetry reading canceled,” Peter read. “So much for that. And it’s not a good day for a walk, so how about a cup of coffee? There’s a shop right around the corner.”

  “I’d like that.” Ann smiled at him.

  Inside, they sat down at a table and soon held cups of steaming coffee. Peter took a careful sip and watched as Ann wrapped her hands around the cup. Her blue eyes sparkled and seemed to hint at something deeper within, something he longed to know better. He cleared his throat. “So tell me. Why did you come to England to work in a bookshop?”

  Ann carefully twirled the cup. “I’d always wanted an adventure. When Grandma died, I talked my parents into letting me come over to stay with Grandpa. It’s been the most wonderful time of my life. I love books, and I’d like to learn all I can about Grandpa’s business so I could take over the shop someday.” Her face grew red, and she looked down at her cup. “That’s one reason going back to America upsets me so much.”

  Peter reached out and squeezed her hand. “Believe me, I understand. I don’t want to leave, either. I know it doesn’t feel like much consolation, but at least we have a safe country to return to.”

  Ann nodded. “I know all that. And I know God will watch out for Grandpa better than I can, but leaving him and the shop would be so hard. I keep hoping a miracle will change the direction the world’s headed.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Pray and think positive, you know.”

  “A miracle’s certainly what we need.” Peter swallowed the last of his coffee and picked up the umbrella. “Ready to brave the elements?”

  They stepped out into the rain and hurried along the wet sidewalk. At the shop door, Peter suddenly dropped the umbrella and scooped her up in his arms, making an exaggerated step across a small puddle. “I keep my promises!” he said with a chuckle.

  Ann laughed as he set her down, bowed gallantly, and opened the door as the bell jangled. “Would you like to go out again sometime?” He raised his eyebrows, and she nodded. “I’ll try to find something interesting and let you know.”

  Footsteps could be heard coming from the backroom as Peter bent to give her a quick kiss before her grandfather appeared. “I had a great time,” he said softly. “Watch those puddles!” He touched the tip of her nose gently and stepped outside.

  A warm sense of Ann’s presence stayed with him as he walked along the sidewalk, trying to figure out why she fascinated him so. She was a surprising mix of spunk and softness, and they had a mutual love of books, but there was something more, something about the way she captured special moments and stored them inside to enjoy on bleaker days. He ambled along, oblivious to the raindrops until they trickled down his collar. The umbrella! He quickly retraced his steps and paused at the shop window, hoping for a glimpse of Ann, but the room was empty. He picked up the umbrella. What’s that woman doing to my mind? Or is it my heart?

  The next morning, Ann’s grandfather was rearranging a shelf of books when she came downstairs after completing her morning chores. He looked up and smiled. “I’m pleased you had a good time with Peter yesterday. He’s a fine young man.”

  Ann felt her face grow hot. “I …” She paused as the bell jangled and a man entered the store. From his clothing and stocky build, he looked like someone who spent much of his time outdoors.

  “What can I do for you?” her grandfather inquired as he stepped down from a stool.

  The man walked up to the counter and looked around. “I’m interested in old Bibles. Ones like that Gutenberg Bible. You don’t have one of them I could look at, do you?” He looked her grandfather in the eye without smiling.

  Ann could feel her heart beat faster and watched her grandfather take a quick breath. “There aren’t many of those left, sir, and most are in museums,” he answered truthfully, watching the man’s face.

  “I heard there are still some around. They were made in Germany. Too bad they’re scattered around the world instead of staying in their own land.” He ran his hand over the counter, his mouth smiling slightly, but his eyes remaining cold.

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you. Would you like to order some information on the subject?” her grandfather offered.

  “No, just asking.” The man turned and left the shop.

  Ann let out her breath. “Grandpa, you don’t think …”

  He shook his head. “Just a coincidence, I’m sure.” He climbed back on the stool and searched through the books on the top shelf.

  Ann stepped to the window and looked out to see the man a short distance down the sidewalk in a conversation with … Peter Austin? Her heart gave a flip. Peter would be here in a few minutes! She busied herself at a bookshelf as minutes ticked by, but Peter didn’t appear. Finally she walked to the window and looked out. The sidewalk was empty. Why had he been out there if he didn’t come in the shop?

  She was jolted back to reality as her grandfather called out, “Ann, unload the box of books that arrived yesterday and stack them on the counter. I need to take a look at them.” He climbed down from the stool and stepped out the shop door.

  Ann returned to her work, but her mind was on Peter’s soft hazel eyes instead of the books she took from the box. Sharing her thoughts with him had seemed so natural, even her dreams and her feelings deep down inside. And when he picked her up to step across the puddle, it felt so right to be in his arms. She jumped as the shop door slammed.

  “I knew it would happen!” Her grandfather entered the room, staring at the day’s newspaper. “France has fallen! They signed the surrender yesterday. Now England stands alone between Hitler and the free world!”

  Ann stared at him in disbelief.

  “I’ve been trying to get you a ticket home, Ann, but we’ve waited too long. Everything’s booked. It won’t be long before German submarines make it unsafe for ships to cross the Atlantic.” He slapped the paper against his leg.

  “It’s June twenty-third, and nothing’s happened here in London, Grandpa. Maybe Hitler will stop with France.”

  “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride,” he snorted. He picked up a small package and handed it to her along with some money. “Take this to the post office for me, please. It needs to go out right away.” He rubbed his forehead and sighed.

  Ann stopped to pat him tenderly on the shoulder. “We’ll be all right, Grandpa.” She opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

&nbs
p; “Yoo-hoo, Ann,” Mrs. Chumley called out. “How’s the romance coming along?” She wore a bright purple dress, and her red curls bobbed as she swept the sidewalk in front of her shop.

  Ann stopped to tell her about the date. “And he wants to take me out again!”

  “What did I tell you? You come talk to me if you need advice on romance,” she said smugly. “That’s what my Albert always says.”

  Ann chuckled. “I’ll remember that.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to get this package to the post office. Talk to you later, Mrs. Chumley.”

  A frown creased Peter’s brow as he hurried along the sidewalk and entered the bookstore. “We need to talk,” he said to Nigel abruptly and looked around. “Is Ann here?”

  Nigel shook his head. “She went to the post office. Come, have a seat by my desk.”

  Peter joined him and took off his hat. “Things have been happening that make me uneasy. Did Ann tell you about the man we talked to on the sidewalk a while back?”

  Nigel put down his pencil. “She told me.”

  “A few days ago, a man stopped me in front of your shop and asked if I worked here. I told him I’m doing research for a book, and you help me find material. Then he asked if I had heard of a Baron Ravenhurst or the Earl of Pembroke. I had no idea what he was talking about and told him so.”

  Nigel paled as Peter completed his story. “What did he look like?”

  “Stocky, sportsman type. I was afraid he suspected I help move valuable materials to safekeeping. I didn’t want to jeopardize our work, so I went on home.”

  Nigel got up and paced, a deep frown on his face. He let out a sigh. “Peter, those men he named were my ancestors. It’s through their line I received the Gutenberg Bible.” He pounded his fist into the palm of his hand.

  “You think someone suspects you have the Bible?” Peter watched his friend carefully.

  “I’m concerned, Peter, but I won’t let anyone use the Bible to finance an evil cause. It must stay with the family.” He continued to pace. “I’ve been praying for a way …”

  “Sit down, my friend. Let’s talk about this.”

  Nigel joined him and put his head in his hands. “I’m not worried for myself, Peter, but I don’t want either the Bible or my granddaughter hurt. Why didn’t I get her a ticket and make her go back to America with the Bible?” His voice was filled with anguish.

  Peter thought a moment. “Maybe there’s a way. I also came to tell you I sail for America in September. My colleague got me the ticket and is sending boxes of material with me for safekeeping. I’d be honored to take your Gutenberg Bible along—if you’d trust me with it.”

  Nigel took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I trust you completely, Peter, but that would solve only half my problem. How do I get Ann to leave? There won’t be more chances soon.”

  “I could give her my ticket,” Peter began.

  Nigel shook his head. “No, you need to go home. And even if I had a ticket, how would I get her to leave?”

  “Convince her she has to take the Bible to America to keep it out of Nazi hands?”

  Nigel looked doubtful. “But would she leave me to save the Bible? And if she knows you’re leaving, she’ll tell me to send it with you. I need to get both of them to America.”

  Peter stood. “My colleague got my ticket. Maybe he can come up with one more to save the Bible. I won’t reveal the item we’re talking about, but if I hint at its importance, maybe he’ll do something.”

  Nigel grasped his hand. “I’d be so grateful, Peter. The Bible and my granddaughter are of immeasurable worth to me. It will be hard to part with them, but my heart will be at peace knowing both my treasures are safe. Let’s keep this from Ann for now.”

  Peter nodded. “I’ll talk to my colleague this afternoon and let you know if I find out anything.” He walked to the door, then turned. “Oh, I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but I’ve been reading my grandmother’s Bible. It’s become more than something I collect. The road ahead may be rough, but the Word is a light for my path in this very dark world. Thanks, my friend.”

  Nigel looked pleased. “Let God’s Word keep you focused on the One who holds the world in His hands. And indeed the days ahead will get rough. The Germans have taken the Channel Islands, and they’re bombing airfields and industrial plants in the south of England. I’ll be praying He puts a ticket into your hands soon.”

  Chapter 5

  The last customer had left the shop, and Ann was collecting the day’s receipts when the aroma of fresh bread filled the room. Mrs. Wilson stepped through the doorway, carrying two large loaves, and smiled at Ann’s grandfather. “I brought your favorite bread,” she said. “We didn’t have sugar to make anything sweet today.”

  He got up and walked to the counter. “Thank you. We’ll enjoy it as a special treat.” He took the bread and smiled at the dainty, white-haired woman.

  Pink appeared on Mrs. Wilson’s cheeks. “If I can find enough meat to buy, I wondered if you and Ann would share a pot of stew with me. Maybe after church one Sunday?” Her hands clutched her purse tightly as if for support.

  He glanced over at Ann, and she nodded. “We’d be delighted. And we’ll bring some tea for the occasion.”

  Mrs. Wilson walked to the door. “So many things are scarce these days. I’ll let you know when I’m able to buy the meat.” She gave a small wave and stepped outside.

  Ann watched her grandfather return to his work with a quiet smile on his face. She’d been hoping he would find someone with whom to share his life, and, as a widow, Mrs. Wilson would be perfect. She got up to lock the shop door, hoping meat wouldn’t be so scarce it would take all year before they got together!

  Midsummer arrived. To Ann, the shop had become stuffy, and she fanned herself with a book from the shelf she was rearranging. As she worked, her mind drifted to the afternoon they had spent with Mrs. Wilson. Peter had been invited to join them, and after the delicious stew, the four went for a stroll. She and Peter had found a grassy spot in the park, where they talked while her grandfather strolled along the paths with Mrs. Wilson holding his arm. The day had been so fresh and peaceful, one she’d always cherish.

  She stepped down from the stool and looked through a pile of books. The constant blare from her grandfather’s radio frayed her nerves as unearthly screams from Germany’s Stuka dive bombers shrieked from the backroom. As he worked, her grandfather was listening to BBC reports of the German Luftwaffe sinking British merchant ships in the English Channel and attacking navy bases and airfields in the south of England.

  And where was Peter? He hadn’t been by the shop lately. Suddenly she felt suffocated and hurried to the workroom. “I need some air, Grandpa. I’m going for a walk.”

  His face reflected concern. “Be careful, my dear, and be ready to take cover at a moment’s notice.”

  Ann nodded and hurried out the door. She walked along block after block, looking in store windows at the meager selection of goods now available and remembering the days when window-shopping was a pleasant pastime. Around her, the English went about their daily routines and searched the stores for the rapidly diminishing items they needed. She sighed and turned toward the bakery for a chat with Mrs. Wilson, who had become a dear friend.

  Peter entered the bookshop as Nigel was turning off the radio. “Hello, my friend.” He smiled and looked around for Ann.

  Nigel walked to the counter and placed his hands on it. “She went out for some air. The shop felt stuffy, and the radio broadcasts were too much for her.”

  A look of disappointment crossed Peter’s face.

  Nigel’s forehead creased in an anxious expression. “Do you bring me good news, my friend?”

  Peter shook his head. “People know time is running out, and everyone wants a ticket to go home. I’m sorry.”

  Nigel slapped his hands on the counter. “Please keep trying, Peter. There must be some way.”

  Peter paused a moment. “I’d like your pe
rmission to try one last thing. I haven’t told my colleague about the Bible, just that Ann has something of value to take to America. He says everyone else does, too.” Peter stopped and looked at Nigel. “If I could tell him about the Bible, he might be willing to pull some strings to get her a ticket. I can’t think of anything else.”

  Nigel paced, praying softly, then stopped and faced Peter. “I don’t see we have a choice, but reveal as little as possible.” He gave a deep sigh.

  “These people know how to keep quiet,” Peter reassured him. “I’ll be here for another month, and I’ll keep working on it. Now, I have to run. I’m trying to do as much as I can in the time I have left.” He paused. “Tell Ann I haven’t forgotten her.”

  When Peter left the shop, he hurried toward the bench in the park to spend some time in his quiet place. He had just sat down and bowed his head when a sound on the sidewalk caused him to look up. Ann stood there, looking uncertain.

  “I don’t mean to intrude,” she began.

  He smiled at her and patted the bench. “I’m always glad to see you.”

  Ann sat down, and he reached for her hand. Pink appeared in her cheeks as she looked up at him. “It’s coming, isn’t it? The attack on London, I mean. Even I can’t pretend any longer.”

  Peter nodded.

  “Grandpa tried to make me leave, but I refused to look at reality.”

  “Are you sorry you stayed?” Peter raised his eyebrows.

  “I’m glad to be here for Grandpa; he’ll never leave. I have to admit I’m afraid, though.” She looked up into the leaves above them. “Sometimes I can’t take any more of the news about the war, and I come here. This place has become my sanctuary.” She looked over at him. “Are you sorry you didn’t make arrangements to leave when you could?”

  Peter paused, remembering Nigel’s request that he not tell Ann about his ticket. “I’m not sorry to spend more time with someone who’s become very special to me,” he answered evasively. “And you have become very important to me, you know. When I pray, I ask that I not lose the opportunity to know you better and find out what happens from here. War is not the easiest time to develop a relationship!”