Regards,
Terrence Irvine
Editor-in-chief
Texas Wildflowers
“When did this come in?” Three dollars. Someone paid her money for her photograph. Real cash money, once she brought the check to the bank.
“Last week.” Mother dipped her head. “I’m afraid you’re going to leave, go off hither and yon, taking photographs like you see in those magazines you love so much.”
“Mother, I have no plans to leave just yet. This editor invited me to submit more photographs. He likes them. That doesn’t mean I’m going to move to Austin or anything. They don’t have wildflowers in the city, anyway.” Trudy scrambled across the row of plants and hunkered down next to her mother, then embraced her.
“I’m sorry I hid it from you, and I’m sorry you’re seeing me like this.” Mother looked at the squash as she spoke. “I try to be strong for you, and your brother.”
Trudy gave her a hug. “You don’t have to be strong for me.”
“I know you’re all grown up. Just look at you, renting out our Sunday house. I’m not sure what your father will think about it. I’m not sure what I think about it.” Mother wiped her brow with the back of her gloved hand. “To be sure, the extra money is nice, but—”
“But what?”
“Be careful, schatze. He’s a reporter. I don’t trust him.”
“I’m careful, Mutti.”
Bradley set his napkin on the table. “Thank you, or should I say, danke? I really don’t know any German.” The smiling faces that lined the dining room held no judgment of his lack of German. This little pocket of society was far from a large city, and its older residents held to their native language. But the younger people his age spoke little German, if any.
“That’s all right,” said his opa, Hank. He brushed off Bradley’s apology with his wrinkled hand, callused from decades of woodworking.
The old man had cried when Tante Elsie introduced him as Micah’s only son.
“My Amelia and I loved him as best we could. We built a family together, all of us.” Opa shook his head, with the faintest of a tremor accenting his movement. “But my father was harsh. I’m sorry I didn’t realize how deeply that affected Micah.”
“Now Papa,” Elsie interjected. “Don’t apologize. Micah knew you loved him as a son. That should have more than made up for what your father tried to do.”
Bradley didn’t want to share with them about the last conversation he’d had with his father, so he held his tongue. If loose lips sank ships, the hurt that his late father’s words could inflict would hurt many assembled at the Zimmermanns’ home for supper.
He found himself the guest of honor, and although he was nowhere near a prodigal to this family, they’d killed the fatted calf and embraced Bradley as one of them. That, and there was cause for double celebration with the upcoming nuptials of his second cousin, Kathe, in several weeks.
“Will you still be with us?” Elsie asked.
“I–I’m not sure,” Bradley managed to answer. “My job brought me here and is letting me stay on for several weeks. I’m writing a series of articles about Fredericksburg on the home front, actually.”
“Please stay,” said his cousin Kathe. “You are welcome at my wedding. We need a celebration around here, and having you here will add to it.”
“I’ll talk to my boss.” He took a sip from his coffee cup. Never had he expected his writing journey to take him here.
“Have you ever been to Europe? Did you see any fighting?” asked one of his younger cousins—Walter, Bradley thought his name was.
“Yes, I was in Germany, briefly, as well as France and England. Then the war bond tour brought me here,” said Bradley. “When my number came up, they sent me home because of my ear infections. I’m hard of hearing in one ear. They thought that was a liability, I guess.”
“I’ll be glad when the war ends,” said Tante Elsie. “I know we all will.”
A whistle echoed outside, followed by a call from a bullhorn in the street. “Lights out, lights out!”
Then, just like in many neighborhoods in many cities across the country, the younger Zimmermanns scampered around, turning light switches off and pulling down shades.
Bradley wasn’t sure the little hamlet turning off all their lights and hunkering down would help the war effort, but maybe it made them all feel as if they were doing something instead of watching news reports.
“So, you’re renting from the Meiers,” Grandfather Hank stated.
“I am. I met Trudy right after the parade yesterday.”
“I think she’s quite taken with you,” said Kathe.
“Kathe,” Tante Elsie chided.
“Well, I haven’t seen her like this, especially after Kurt.” Kathe shook her head.
“What if he comes home? Then she has a choice to make.” Tante Elsie rose from the table. “More coffee, anyone?”
“So she has someone, then.” Bradley lifted his coffee cup. “I don’t mind more coffee.”
“No, not exactly.” Kathe sighed. “Kurt is MIA, somewhere in France. He’s been missing for three months now. His unit thinks he’s been captured.”
“That’s horrible.” It definitely gave a personal edge to the news. “His poor family …”
“So, I bet you’ll want to know more about Fredericksburg’s favorite son,” said Hank. “I knew the old captain well, Chester’s grandfather, Charles.”
“You did?” Bradley pulled his notepad from his pocket.
“Put that thing away. Tonight’s just for listening, not for working.” Hank waved his pointer finger at Bradley.
“Yes, sir.” Bradley tucked the notepad away, trying not to smile at the older man’s gesture. So this was how it felt, being part of a family.
Chapter 5
Good afternoon,” Trudy called into the Sunday house where Bradley sat at the table, pen in hand. She shifted the folder under one arm and tried not to drop the basket she carried in the other hand.
He looked up and a smile spread across his face. “Good afternoon.”
“Here’s some chicken potpie my mother made.” Trudy set the basket on the table.
“A wonderful smell”—Bradley leaned toward the basket, where the pie lay inside, wrapped in a cloth napkin. “I haven’t had homemade potpie in … a very long time. I miss my mother’s cooking.”
“Did your mother cook a lot?”
“She did. She was the best. Even though it was just her and I for a long time.” Bradley corked the inkwell and set down his pen. “My father left when I was nine. He still came around, though.”
“I–I’m sorry.” The conversation had taken a more personal turn, but this was what she’d hoped for. Something about him made her want to learn more.
The shadow passed from his face when he looked up at her again. “Enough about that. Did you bring more pictures?”
“That I did. They’re the last roll I shot, including the parade and war bond show.” She pulled the photographs from an old school binder. “Here …”
Bradley thumbed through the set, nodding as he did so. “Good shots. You might want to up the exposure on the one with the midget submarine. A few of the details are lost.”
“Okay.” She knew she had much more to learn about photography.
“Do you have plans today?”
“I always have something to do, especially with Father gone. We manage as best we can.”
“Will you take me around town and introduce me to people? I want to get a good picture of life here during World War II.” The intensity of his tone compelled her to look him straight in the eye.
“I can, today.” Spending the afternoon with Bradley? Her heart raced.
“Do you have your camera? Maybe I can see if my editor could use some of your images.”
“I always have my camera with me.” She was on her last roll of film and didn’t know where she’d find some cash for more. Unless that editor of Bradley’s would pay for ph
otos.
“Perfect.” He stood, picking up a slim notepad. “Where shall we go first?”
“You said that people look differently at us because we’re German. We have nothing to do with the actions of that insane man and the people who blindly follow him. People need to see what we’ve given.” Her throat caught. “You need to meet the Wagners. They had twin sons, both killed in the service and both buried in a Fredericksburg cemetery. Mr. Wagner runs the soda shop in town, and Mrs. Wagner is a seamstress.”
“We’ll go there, then.” He followed her out into the sunlight.
As they left the Wagners’ home, Bradley fought the emotions rising inside. Trudy dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief that she slipped into her pocket. “I don’t know what to say,” was all he could manage.
“I know.” Trudy nodded. She gripped her camera strap, her fingers trembling. “I take my brother to get a soda, and it’s hard to watch Mr. Wagner. I can see the memories in his eyes, remembering how his own boys were the same age as Eric once.”
He touched her elbow, and she released her hand’s grip on the strap and allowed him to take her hand. “May I?”
She studied their hands, fingers interlocked, and nodded. “Can I take you somewhere?”
“All right. Lead the way.”
“I want to show you a place of beauty here. It’s where I shot some of the pictures you’ve already seen.” Her hands were soft, her fingertips having the tiniest bit of callus from working with chemicals.
He needed to tell her about his ties to the town, that one day he’d be back. Instead, he let her talk, pointing out the landmarks from the creek, to where she completed high school, to the historic school building where her mother and grandmother went to school.
“Here we are,” she said, leading him under the shade of a trio of oak trees. “These are live oaks, probably at least one hundred years old.”
The trees had massive trunks, so thick that Bradley could wrap his arms around only half of a trunk. Their thick, gnarled branches spread wide before reaching up to the sky. “These are something else. They’re not as tall as the redwoods in California, but just as majestic in their own way.”
“I’m glad you understand, not being from around here and all.”
“Actually, I’ve been wanting to tell you something.” He took her hand again. “It turns out, I do have ties to Fredericksburg. My father, Micah Delaney, is related to your friends, the Zimmermanns.”
“Really? You’re part of their family then?”
He loved watching a smile bloom on her face. “Yes. He was Tante Elsie’s younger brother.” Bradley explained about his father leaving Fredericksburg and never returning, then about his parents’ untimely deaths.
“I’m so sorry, Bradley.” She covered his hand with her other hand. “Your father was so alone, and he had people here who loved him all along.”
“His loss, and I wish he’d realized that before it was too late.” Bradley shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what the Zimmermanns would think, but they’ve been very accepting. Aunt Elsie recognized me right away, it turns out.”
Trudy had a musical laugh. “I’m certain she did.” Her eyes held a curious light, with the breeze catching the ends of her hair.
“I haven’t felt so at home since … ever.” His throat tightened and he pulled Trudy close, and kissed her. The rosewater scent she wore surrounded him, and the remainders of the soda they’d drunk at the Wagners’ shop were sweet on her lips. She molded perfectly against him. It was as if they’d known each other far longer than two days.
Then she pulled back, giving a little gasp. “Bradley, we hardly know each other.”
“Maybe we know each other better than you want to admit. As far as the day-to-day things go, those are things we can easily learn about each other.”
“But—”
“Is it Kurt? Well, I’m not Kurt. I’m sorry about what happened to him, and I hope they find him.” He allowed himself to touch her chin and raise her gaze to meet his. “You can’t let yourself be in limbo. The war will end, we’ll start moving on with our lives, and where will you be? I’m thankful and blessed to have a job that somehow makes a difference in people’s lives. You have a wonderful talent as well. Are you going to let yourself stay here?”
“Who told you about Kurt?” Trudy stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I should have been the one to tell you. Not someone else.”
“So you do have feelings for me.”
“Of course I do. I’ve felt it from the moment we met, and it frightened me. There’s so much uncertainty in life right now, I don’t see adding to it.” Her brow furrowed, and she lowered her arms to fiddle with her camera strap.
“Even without war, life is still uncertain. That’s where trusting God comes in.” Unspeakable relief washed over him. She cared for him. She’d felt it, too, that instant connection that neither of them were expecting or looking for.
Trudy nodded. “Of course it does. Without my faith in God, I wouldn’t have hope.”
“Well, then. Have faith that whatever’s happening between us will have a happy ending.”
One corner of her mouth twitched. “I’ll try.” But her eyes held an uncertain expression.
Chapter 6
Trudy couldn’t avoid Bradley over the next two weeks. She wanted to know him better, as he’d said. Everyday things were easy to learn about someone else. Likes, dislikes, little annoying or endearing habits.
What she’d intended to be a weekly ritual turned into an everyday happening. She would bring Bradley food, intending to drop it off and leave. She’d tote along either biscuits or rolls from her mother, or leftover meat or something for Bradley to make himself a sandwich. Instead of her heading straight back to the farm, she and Bradley would end up walking the streets of Fredericksburg, occasionally running into yet another friend or a distant cousin of his.
The day before Kathe’s wedding, Bradley was grinning when Trudy arrived at the Sunday house. A brown paper–wrapped parcel sat on the table, addressed to him in care of the Nimitz Hotel. “Look what I have here. I was hoping it would arrive.”
Trudy studied the parcel, securely tied with string. “A package. Good. You mentioned the other day about waiting for something to arrive.”
He tapped the brown paper. “Go ahead, open it. It’s for you.”
“For me?” She worked at untying the string, which didn’t work, so Bradley worked at it with his pocketknife. The paper unfolded to reveal a book, cover side down. She turned the book over.
Photography Fundamentals and Beyond: A Professional’s Primer.
“Bradley—” He understood her. It wasn’t a romantic gift, by any definition of the word. Any fellow could buy a girl flowers or chocolates, but this, this was personal. “I studied what I could, but I always had to return the photography book to the library.”
“Well, now this copy is yours forever.” He took her hand and squeezed it.
“Thank you, thank you so much.”
“I think you could be a professional photographer, and not just portraits. You could work anywhere.”
“It means a lot to have someone believe in me like this, especially you.” The air grew thick, just like it did weeks before under the live oak trees.
“I do.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
The memory of his gift followed her through a sleepless night until the following afternoon, when she stood inside her cousin Kathe’s bedroom, where the temperature soared with early June heat. Kathe stood in front of a small circular fan, moving as it oscillated.
“I’m melting, Trudy. Oh, why, why didn’t Peter and I wait until autumn to marry?” Kathe frowned, but Trudy laughed in spite of her own somber thoughts. “And here you are, my maid of honor, laughing at me.”
“It’s too late to turn back now,” Trudy said. “Besides, Peter is well enough to get married.”
Kathe nodded. “He’s going to walk me during the recessional—oh de
ar, I can’t cry. Not yet.” She fanned her face and glanced at Trudy. “Okay, you. ’Fess up. What’s going on with you and my handsome, young journalist cousin from Washington? You’ve been seen around town nearly every day.”
“I don’t know. I wish I knew. But”—Trudy shivered at the memory—“he kissed me once.”
“No. Scandalous, and him so new in town.” Kathe’s eyes were wide, but she followed the fish-eyed expression with a smile.
“Don’t act shocked.” Trudy studied her friend’s face. “Wait. Did you tell him about Kurt? Because the other day, he brought up Kurt and knew what happened.”
“Um … well, we sort of all did, the first night he had supper with us.” Kathe started moving back and forth in front of the fan again.
“I wanted to be the one to tell him….” Trudy sank onto the bed. She should have told him herself, but she hadn’t wanted to press the issue as if she were trying to prove to him that she was “available.” She picked up the pink gown, simple, with an A-line skirt. The idea of getting into her maid-of-honor gown wasn’t pleasant. Although the gown was beautiful and lovingly sewn by Tante Elsie, she’d melt just like Kathe would.
“I’m sorry. Bradley wanted to know, and it all just sort of came out.”
A soft knock sounded at the door. “Are you almost ready? The guests have almost all assembled in the backyard,” said Tante Elsie.
“Almost,” Kathe called out. Then she continued in a lower tone. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Of course not. We—he and I—well, we agreed to continue getting to know each other.”
“Why don’t you look happy about it?”
Trudy stood and ran her fingers over the fabric of her dress. “For one thing, he’s going to leave. That’s a given fact. He can’t write about Fredericksburg forever and his boss wants him to move on eventually. And another thing, how do I know that this isn’t moving so fast? He makes me feel …”
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 49