by Sarah Sundin
She slipped both arms around his neck and smiled. “You’re teasing me, Walter Novak.”
“She definitely wouldn’t embrace a scruffy flyboy in public.” He rubbed his delightfully scruffy cheek against hers.
Music soared, tumbling over itself, a lyrical fountain of melody. “And she’d never dream of kissing that flyboy in public.”
Walt stilled. “We haven’t—oh boy. You know, we should go someplace—”
“No one’s around, and I’m not that woman anymore, remember?” She kissed him in front of his ear.
“Oh yeah. Yeah, I remember.”
He met her halfway and pressed his lips to hers. Were there a thousand kisses, or only one in a symphony with a thousand movements? Some gentle, some insistent, some longing, some tender, all a culmination of friendship and dreams and prayers.
She never wanted the kiss to end, but she had so much to say to him. “Walt?” she mumbled against his lips.
“Hmm?” He let his mouth linger on hers for a moment, then drew back.
Her lips felt gelatinous from his kisses. “I—I lost count,” she said, and realized she didn’t make sense. “Oh, you wouldn’t remember.”
Walt smiled slowly, as if he had the same lip problem she did. “’Course I remember. Tried to forget and couldn’t. Never figured out why he—why he didn’t—was that true? Is this your first—”
Allie nodded, her throat tight. “He didn’t love me and I didn’t love him. But you—oh, darling, I love you so much.”
Walt leaned his forehead against hers, and his eyes melted into a lovely blur. “And boy, do I love you.” He paused and swallowed. “Sweetheart.”
A sudden pain clenched her heart. Father used to call her sweetheart. But now Walt would, and the pain mellowed to warmth. She tipped up her face for another kiss, and Walt obliged.
Footsteps thumped. Wooden boards creaked. Allie snapped out of Walt’s embrace to see the ticket agent run toward them.
“Just got a telegraph. Some crazy lady jumped off the train.” He stopped and cocked his head at Allie seated on the ground. “You’re not the crazy lady, are you?”
Flaming heat rose up Allie’s cheeks. “I—I’m afraid so.”
Walt chuckled. “She’s my crazy lady, Mr. Putnam.”
He frowned. “You’re one of the Novak boys, aren’t you? I’d recognize Jacob Novak’s nose anywhere. So, what’s going on? You all right, miss?”
“I’ve never felt better.” She gave Walt a warm smile, which collapsed into an apologetic one. “But I think I twisted my ankle.”
“You what?” Walt scooted down to her feet. “Why didn’t you say something?”
She winced as she stretched her sore legs before her. “I had more important matters to tend to.”
He shot her half a smile, then frowned at her foot. “Look how swollen it is. Hope you didn’t break it.”
“Oh dear.” Her right ankle throbbed, visibly larger than the other.
Mr. Putnam leaned forward and rested his hands on knobby knees. “Want me to call Doc Jamison?”
“Yeah, could you? Oh, wait. He’s not home.”
Allie laughed. “The wedding reception.”
Walt grinned. “Forgot about that. Say, Mr. Putnam, could you call us a cab?”
“Can do.” The men helped her to standing. Mr. Putnam retrieved her shoe and handbag and Walt’s cap. “Say, miss, what about your luggage?”
Allie held on to Walt’s shoulder. “Oh dear. It’s halfway to San Francisco.”
“Could you wire them, have them send it back?” Walt settled a sturdy arm around Allie’s waist and smiled down at her. “Let’s get you to the doctor.”
“Oh my. We have some explaining to do.”
“Not we. You. I’m not the one who jumped off a train.”
Allie rested her head on Walt’s shoulder and laughed.
When they reached the Carlisles’, Walt helped her out of the cab. She leaned on him to hobble up the walk, and she swung open the front door.
“Hiya, Walt. Thought you’d forgotten us.”
“Allie! Oh my goodness. What happened?”
People swarmed about her, fussed over her dress and her injuries, pulled her from Walt’s side, seated her in an armchair, and elevated her foot on an ottoman.
Dr. Jamison probed her ankle. “Looks like a sprain. I’ll have to do X-rays to rule out a fracture. How did this happen?”
“Oh, I—Walter?” she called out. Where was he? These were his relatives, his friends. She’d rather he told the story. There he was, talking to a tall, gray-haired man. “Walt, would you come over here, please?”
“Yeah?” He worked into the circle.
“Dr. Jamison wants to know what happened.”
“Tell him. Tell everyone,” he said with a grin. “I’ve got an errand to run, but in the meantime, tell them everything.”
“You’re not leaving now, are you?”
“I’ll be back.” He cupped her chin in his hand and glanced at his family and friends. Then he kissed her gently. “Tell them everything, okay? I love you.”
“Okay.” Her voice was drowned out by gasps and Betty’s squeal.
Walt straightened up with a flushed face, waved to the crowd, beckoned to the gray-haired man, and ran out the door.
Surprised, delighted, confused eyes turned to Allie.
She looked around and smiled. “Where on earth do I begin?”
50
Walt reined himself back to a walk. He wanted to get back to Allie, but he didn’t want to arrive winded and sweaty.
This had to be right, but why wouldn’t it be? She loved him. She forgave him. She actually jumped off a train for him. And wow, she kissed great.
He caught himself running again and slowed down. “Lord, help us make the right decisions.” He took it as a sign that Mr. Lindstrom was at the reception and was willing to help, even though Walt had plowed a go-cart through his vegetable garden in sixth grade.
Walt took the Carlisles’ porch steps two at a time. The parlor had thinned out to close family and friends, seated on chairs around the room. There was Allie, talking, laughing, all red in the face, her foot propped and bandaged.
He kept his eyes on the target, ignored the friendly flak around him, knelt beside Allie, and took her hand.
She beamed at him. “Hello, darling.”
“Hi.” No small talk. He had a big old bomb to drop. “Will you marry me?”
The room went dead silent, and Allie’s lips parted. “Wh-what?”
“Yeah, you heard right. Will you marry me?”
“Walter, I—oh my goodness. I mean, just an hour ago— and now?”
“I know. Same for me.” He squeezed her hand. “I know it’s fast, but hear me out. You have three marital options and three geographical options. Choose your objective.”
George’s laugh rang from across the room. “Novak, you’re the only man I know who could make a marriage proposal sound like a military campaign.”
“Stay out of this, Anello. I’m proposing to Allie, not to you.”
A smile dimpled the corner of her mouth. “Marital options?”
“Yeah. First option—you accept the proposal, and we get married right away, like Art and Dorothy. Second option— you accept but we wait a year, whatever. Third option—you turn me down but I’ll keep asking.”
Her smile glowed even more, but she didn’t say anything.
If his heart were a B-17 engine, he’d have to feather it, because it was out of control. “Well, which one?”
“I’d like to hear my geographical options first.” She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb.
Walt sat back on his heels to get farther away. If she played with his hair again, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the mission.
“Okay, I’ve got a job lined up at Boeing in Seattle after I’m discharged. Your first option—go to San Francisco as planned. Of course, now you don’t have to run away from me. Second option—stay in An
tioch. You can find a room and get a job if you want. When I come home on vacation, I won’t have to split my time between Antioch and San Francisco. Third option—Seattle. My radio operator, Bill Perkins, he’s from Seattle, and he’s stateside now. He can help you find a nice place to stay. Maybe Boeing could use a business major.”
Uh-oh. He saw tears. “You—you don’t have to decide today.”
“I’ve already decided,” she said, her voice as moist as her eyes.
Too late for feathering—his heart went into a stall. “Yeah?”
“The second option and the third.”
Now the stall spread to his brain. “Huh?”
Allie laughed, shaky and cute. “I’ve heard Seattle is lovely.”
He grinned, and rose back up onto his knees. “That’s what Bill says. Islands and ferries and lots of trees. You want to come?”
“Oh yes. I want to be near you. We fell in love on paper. I want to get to know you even better in person.”
“Yeah, exactly. Seattle was my first choice.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “What about—what about the marital option? Will you? Will you marry me?”
Allie’s green eyes gleamed brighter, quicker, more allegro than ever.
“Please, sweetheart. I want to look into those eyes for the rest of my life.”
She smiled, slow and quiet and adagio. “Yes, Walt. I would be honored to be your wife.”
“You would?” A laugh erupted. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close so her curls could tickle his nose. “You really would?”
She wrapped her arms around him and chuckled in his ear. “You are adorable.”
“Mr. Putnam was right. You are crazy.” He planted a kiss on her cheek. “So when? Now? Later? Any time’s fine with me.”
“A little later.” She settled back in the chair, leaving her hand on his shoulder. “Would you mind horribly? As I said, I’d like to get to know you better in person.”
He smiled and wound his finger around one of her curls. “That was my first choice too.”
“Wise woman you found, son,” Dad said from over at the bridge table. “I don’t approve of these rushed wartime weddings.”
Everyone laughed. Art sat on the sofa with his arm around his wartime bride’s shoulder. “You just officiated at one,” he said.
“That’s different,” Dad said. “You’ve known each other since you were babies.”
Betty came to Walt, leaned over, and whispered in his ear. “A ring. You should have waited until you had a ring. Promise her you’ll get one Monday.”
“How hopeless do you think I am? Boy, I tell you.” Walt grumbled and dug in the pocket of his uniform jacket. “Where do you think I went with Mr. Lindstrom?”
“You bought a ring?” Allie asked in a small voice.
“Um, yeah.” He frowned. How stupid to propose to her on the day she was supposed to marry Baxter.
“Show her,” Betty said.
He might as well. Too late to undo that mistake. He struggled to open the lid with one hand, and then handed the box to her. The diamond looked smaller than it did in the store. “I’m sure it’s not what—well, not what you’re used to.”
Tears puddled in her eyes. “It’s much more beautiful and much, much more welcome.”
He studied her face. She meant it. She’d rather have a simple ring from him than whatever she had before. He pulled the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. The stone swung around to the underside of her hand, and they laughed together.
“We’ll get it sized,” he said.
“Well, let’s see,” Betty said.
Walt stood to let the women swoop down on Allie. He had his own set of congratulations to endure. The men gave him hearty handshakes, but Ray’s congratulations seemed subdued by his own bad history with engagements. Then the women fell on him with joyful hugs, although Helen didn’t exactly look joyful. Had to be a hard day for her— first Jim’s sister married his best friend, and now another friend proposed.
Walt glanced over to Allie’s chair.
Mom held Allie’s cheeks between her hands and kissed her on the forehead. “I couldn’t be more pleased. I can’t imagine a better wife for Walt, or a sweeter daughter-in-law.”
Allie’s smile looked forced and sad. Everyone was there, and everyone was happy, except her parents. Walt had a hunch the Millers wouldn’t be so pleased with their future son-in-law.
He rushed to Allie’s side and took her hand. “Hi, there.”
“Hi.” Her voice shook. “I wish—”
“I know.” He gave her a little kiss. “They’re probably at dreary old St. Lucifer’s right this minute, waiting for you to come down that aisle, and here you are with a sprained ankle, a tattered dress, and a tiny diamond, being seen in public kissing a one-armed flyboy.”
Allie’s mouth quivered. “Oh, how I love my flyboy.”
“I sure am glad. That ring isn’t returnable.”
She reached up and caressed his cheek. “Return it? An entire bovine army couldn’t get it away from me.”
“Good, because loving you is better than—well, I was about to say it’s better than flying but . . .”
Allie’s eyebrows lifted, then relaxed. She knew he was teasing.
Walt grinned and kissed her. “Yeah, it’s even better than flying.”
Discussion Questions
1. In the 306th Bombardment Group, 315 men went to England in September 1942 in the 35 original 9-man combat crews. Of these, 106 were killed, 88 became POWs, 10 left combat due to wounds, and 9 were evadees. How do you think the men coped with such distressing statistics? What coping techniques did you see among the characters? How do you think modern Americans would tolerate such circumstances?
2. Allie experiences rationing and shortages on the home front. Do you have any personal or family experiences of World War II home front life? How would you have dealt with these difficulties?
3. Walt and Allie’s love is built by letters. In this day of email and instant messages, it’s hard to imagine a letter taking two to six weeks to go overseas, and waiting twice that long for a response. How does this delay affect Walt and Allie’s communication and decisions?
4. Our world harshly judges those born less than attractive. How much of Allie’s self-image problem stems from having a gorgeous mother who values beauty? How does Agatha Montclair’s story shape Mary Miller’s perception of her daughter? What problems arise from Allie’s view of herself as plain?
5. Allie says, “Self-pity is nothing but pride in disguise.” Agree or disagree? Why?
6. Describe Walt’s relationship with his brothers. How have comparisons to Jack and Ray affected Walt? Have you noticed similar issues in your family?
7. At the beginning of the story, Walt says white lies are like “ball bearings in the machinery of society,” but by the end he says they’re like “incendiary bombs, burning and melting and mangling.” How is this revealed in Walt’s life? In your experience, which statement is closer to the truth?
8. To Allie, “silence is a truthful solution to a dilemma.” Can silence be dishonest? Was it for Allie? For Walt?
9. Walt realizes his lies stem from pride. How is this manifested in his story? In general, what part does pride play in sin?
10. When Walt confesses his lie to his crew, many of the men are angry. How do you feel about their response? Does the ongoing nature of his dishonesty make it worse in their eyes? Does his faith make them come down on him harder?
11. Describe Allie’s spiritual home life. How did she change when she met Betty? How does she grow throughout the book? What part does Walt play? How about Cressie?
12. What contributes to Allie’s decision to marry Baxter (personality, family, background)? Why do you think Baxter wants to marry her—just the money?
13. Allie struggles with whether she should marry a man who doesn’t share her faith. How do you feel about this matter?
14. Throughout the story, Allie is to
rn between honoring her parents and obeying God. Why do you think it takes Allie so long to stand up to her parents? Have you ever felt torn between two “good” things?
15. What sacrifices does Walt make? How do they affect the people around him?
16. Cressie says, “Sometimes we choose our sacrifices,” and Daisy says some sacrifices “make you feel holy without making you holy.” How do you see this in Allie’s life? In Walt’s? Have you ever noticed it in your life?
17. 1 Samuel 15:22 states, “Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt-offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice.” Why is this true? How is this seen in Walt and Allie’s lives?
18. What do you think of Walt’s reaction to his injury? How about Allie’s reaction? How would you feel if you or someone you loved faced a similar situation?
19. The second book in the series focuses on Walt’s brother Jack and his nurse, Lt. Ruth Doherty. From what you’ve seen of these characters, what might you expect?
Acknowledgments
For years I’ve dreamed of writing this page for this is a group project.
Above all, thanks to my Lord, the giver of dreams, who fulfills his purpose in his way and in his time.
My family deserves my undying gratitude. My poor husband, Dave, married a pharmacist and ended up with a writer. And my sweet children, Stephen, Anna, and Matthew, have suffered several late pickups at school. I love you all more than I can say.
Few writers come from homes without books. My parents, Ronald and Nancy Stewart, infused my sister and me with a love of reading. Dad, Mom, and Martha (Groeber), thanks for your support—and fine-toothed editing.
Thanks also to those who taught me, critiqued me, encouraged me, and prayed for me, especially the faculty at the Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference, the members of American Christian Fiction Writers, and most of all Diablo Valley Christian Writers Group—Jessica Brophy, Alice Ann Cantelow, Kathleen Casey, Ron Clelland, Carol Green, Cynthia Herrmann, Susan Lawson, Marilynn Lindahl, Debbie Maselli, Sue Massie, Paula Nunley, Evelyn Sanders, Marcy Weydemuller, and Linda Wright.
As for prayer, I’ve been slathered in it! My church, my small group, and my book club have held me up. And thanks to those who read my manuscript—Marilyn and Kristina Baham, Andrea Balderrama, Jill Combs, Cindi Grovhoug, Jeanne Horgan, Rosanna Hunter, Laura Juranek, Sue Matt, Joy Benson, Twilla Bordley, MaryAnn Buchanan, Tami Fanucchi, Angelique Foster, Laquetta Franz, Sonja Grovhoug, Michelle Lippincott, Don and Nancy McDaniels, Janice Moore, Lisa Prevost, Laurie Ratterree, Denise Sterud, Susan Stuteville, Donna Ubeda, and Sandy Wall. And thanks to Suzanne Russo for printing a portable version.