Cupid's Bow: The First Generation Boxed Set

by Storm, Melissa

  Peggy laughed good-naturedly. “She didn’t save your life, James. You did that all on your own.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever the case may be, I have to find her, or I’ll always wonder. I believe I found this picture for a reason, and I just can’t rest until I find out what that reason is. I know it doesn’t make a whole heck of a lot of sense, but I can feel it in my bones. I need to do this.”

  “Who cares much about sense these days? Most of us have too much sense for our own good anyway.” Peggy batted her eyelashes and offered him the plate of lemon cookies again, but James declined.

  “Well, if things don’t turn out quite as expected, you know where to find me. I’d love to accompany you to dinner if you’re ever back in town. Until then, good luck.” She kissed him on the cheek and showed him out of the apartment.

  Dinner, now there was an idea. The tea had been pleasant, but had really only stoked his appetite for something more substantial. He thought about knocking on Peggy’s door again, inviting her to join him—she was, after all, a good looking and pleasant woman—but he also didn’t want to give her any false hope.

  His attentions belonged unequivocally to the woman in the picture, at least until further notice.

  His stomach growled again, and he remembered passing by a pleasant looking diner on his ride over to see Peggy. He hopped a bus for the short ride back, his feet much too tired to carry him the full way.

  As he rode toward his destination, he contemplated his journey. He’d started the search with his unit and the families of the airmen killed in the crash. After that, he’d moved onto one of the other B-29 squadrons that had operated over in Korea. He’d moved on to California, which also seemed to be a dead end.

  So what next?

  New Mexico might turn up a few good leads. Really, he just needed one—one perfect lead to find the woman he sought. As the bus approached his stop, he wondered why his search had thus far borne no fruit. The picture had come into his life for a reason, he was sure of that, so why had it been so difficult to find its subject? Wasn’t she the reason for all this?

  James refused to accept that fate had given him that photo as nothing more than a talisman. There had to be a greater significance. Didn’t there?

  Hungry. He was just hungry and tired, his body still weak from his imprisonment abroad. He was doing too much too soon, but at the same time it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

  A hot meal would do him a world of good. He slipped off the bus, planning to order the meatloaf.

  And that’s precisely when he saw her, alive, in the flesh, and standing right before him.

  Chapter 8

  “You want me to pay how much per month for this apartment?” Gloria asked again, her eyes squinting at the obscene number on the papers the building manager had handed her.

  “Look, doll. That’s just the way it is.” He plucked at a suspender and frowned. “Don’t you have a husband to take care of these sorts of things?”

  Gloria did her best to remain pleasant, even though she’d had loved to give him a piece of her mind regarding what women could and could not do for themselves. “No, you’re going to have to deal with me.” She signed the lease and handed it back to him. “I’ll take it. When can I move my things in?”

  “The place is yours. Soon as you bring me a check for the deposit.” He gave her an avaricious grin.

  “Oh, right. Do you have a Star bank around here?”

  “Right around the corner, doll. But I can’t promise I won’t sell it to somebody else while you go. Everyone and their mother wants to live in my complex.”

  She sincerely doubted that, given the water stains in the hallway and the worn tread on the carpeting, but California was expensive; this place was all she could afford even when taking into account the salary of her better-paying job. “I’ll do my best to hurry,” she said as she turned to walk away.

  The sting of the man’s gaze bore into her thighs as she rushed out of his smoke-filled office. She exited the building, taking a quick glance back at the antiquated brownstone. The two-bedroom apartment the manager had shown her was only about half the size of their current ranch-style home in Texas. Of course, it meant all the boys would be jammed into a single room while Gloria would be resigned to the couch, but she hardly spent anytime in her room as it was, because when she wasn’t working, the terrible loneliness of having a room all to herself was more than she could bear.

  She needed a few minutes to herself to get her head on straight. Yes, God wanted her to come here, but following His plan hadn’t always proven to be easy—especially not for Gloria. Maybe a quick trip to the pier she had spied when coming into town would help her breathe easy again, give her the strength she needed to sign for her family’s new life right on the dotted line of the rental agreement.

  She spotted a bus standing at its stop across the way and hurried across traffic to catch it. Luckily her legs were strong and toned from all those mornings walking to and from the factory.

  A man slipped past her as she boarded the bus. Their arms brushed against one another, and gave her a static shock. The doors hissing shut behind her startled her briefly.

  “Hope you’re having a nice day,” the driver said as she smiled and paid her fare.

  The engine revved and the bus started up again. A flash of green caught Gloria’s eye as they pulled away from the curb.

  “Hey, hey, wait! Stop! Wait!” The same man who had just gotten off now shouted and pounded on the sealed door.

  “Sorry,” the driver said more to her than the man running after them. “I’m on a tight schedule here. Can’t afford to be late.”

  But the man persisted. “Wait, Miss! I need to speak to you! Stop the bus! I…” His voice faded beneath the symphony of the city traffic.

  Gloria took her seat and stared at him from the bus’s rear window. Why did she have the sneaking suspicion he had been trying to talk to her? What could that stranger possibly have had to say? She checked her belongings to make sure she hadn’t dropped anything before brushing her concerns aside. No need to puff herself up with hot air. The man had clearly been after the driver or another patron of the bus, not her.

  This was a whole new world. And even though she was all alone now, she’d soon build a fresh life upon the ashes of the one she’d willingly left behind.

  * * *

  The full lips, the dark walnut eyes so full of mystery, yet so inviting—it was definitely her. Her! James didn’t get a proper look at her until after the doors had closed and the bus had started to pull away.

  “Stop! Wait!” he cried, but it was no use. The driver refused to open the doors, and James was too short of breath to continue to chase the vehicle as it picked up speed and disappeared into the busy city streets.

  “Damn,” James muttered, staring at the bus as it turned a corner and left his line of vision. He stood there for a while as busy pedestrians passed him on both sides.

  It had been her, no doubt about it. She was real, and she was here in California. Hope swelled in his chest. If he had found her once, he could find her again. He would find her again.

  He turned to walk back toward the diner, which sat just across the street from the bus stop. The smile didn’t leave his face the whole way.

  She was real. She was here. And sooner or later they would bump into each other again. He would finally get the chance to speak with her, to learn her name, to thank her for all she’d done for him, even though she didn’t have the slightest clue she’d done a thing, let alone so much.

  At the diner, he ordered the meatloaf and a tall glass of Coke. He took a seat facing the large window that looked out onto the street and stayed until closing time. The next day he came back bright and early and took up his station again. He came the day after that too—and the day after that.

  On the fifth day, one of the waitresses came by to chat with him as she topped off his cup of Joe. “You know the girls are starting to tell stories about you?”


  James reluctantly tore his vision away from the window and looked up at the pretty blonde with bright red lipstick.

  She smiled at him and took a seat on the opposite side of the booth. “Pam thinks you’re an undercover cop on a stakeout, but I said, ‘Pam, that’s ridiculous. He doesn’t look a thing like a cop.’ Then there’s Rosemary. She thinks you’ve got a case of that—what do they call it?—amnesia, and that you keep coming in here to try to jog your memory because you can’t remember where your home is and so you don’t really have anywhere else to go.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “But me? I think you’re waiting for somebody who means an awful lot to you.”

  “Oh?” James raised an eyebrow and took a sip of the piping hot coffee.

  “I’m right, aren’t I? I knew it,” she squealed. “Name’s Betty Jo by the way.”

  He took the hand she reached across the table in greeting.

  “And who might you be?”

  “James,” he said, purposefully avoiding his military title so as not to create an even bigger fuss.

  “How do you do, James? Now, tell me, because I’m dying to know. Is my little theory correct?”

  He nodded and her smile grew even wider.

  “I knew it! Who is she?”

  He took her photo out of his breast pocket and pushed it across the table to Betty Jo.

  Her mouth formed an O as she studied the picture, then looked back up at him with excitement brimming in her eyes. “Wow, she’s a real beauty, James. That’s some girl you’ve got there. What’s her name?”

  James sighed. “That’s the thing, I don’t know.”

  An expression of concern flashed across her face, but she quickly rearranged her features back into a smile. “So Rosemary’s right too? About the amnesia?”

  He chuckled. “No, no. No amnesia here.” And he launched into his story about finding the picture, being taken prisoner, and returning home to start his search.

  The whole time Betty Jo listened with her chin resting on her palm, completely enraptured. When he’d finished, she said, “Well, James, I sure hope you find her. And that, when you do, she knows how lucky she is to have caught your eye. If it helps, I’ll keep an eye out for her too. We’ll find her for you, James.”

  “Thank you, Miss. Thank you.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. The girls and I are happy to help. But maybe you should go and get some rest, huh? It can’t be easy sitting in that stiff little booth from sun up to sun down, day in and day out. I’ll cover this shift. Go and grab some shut-eye, okay?”

  “You’re right. I am pretty sore.” He stood and stretched. “Here’s my number at the hotel. Call me if anything comes up, okay?”

  “I will. You better believe it. Good night, honey. Get some sleep.”

  Settled back into his hotel room, he decided to place a quick call to check in with Tommy back home.

  Tommy answered on the first ring. “James! Where have you been? I’ve been going crazy trying to get ahold of you! Diana’s had her baby, a boy! We named him after you, James, after his godfather. You’ve gotta get back here and see him. We leave the hospital day after tomorrow. Diana’s been asking after you, too. Oh, you should see him, Jimbo. You should see my little boy.”

  “Congratulations,” James said when at last Tommy paused to take a quick breath. “I’m so happy for you and Diana. I’ll be on the first flight home, but first there’s something I have to do real quick.”

  Chapter 9

  Gloria flipped through her brother’s notebook, pausing occasionally to lightly run her fingers over the lifelike images. Rico’s art always brought her back to a happier time, especially now as she reminisced about walking home from school with Rico each weekday afternoon.

  When he was in fifth grade and she in third, Rico had started to come into his own as an artist. He’d draw the cartoons made popular by the cinema and exchange them with his classmates for gumballs, candy buttons, and other sweets Mama never allowed them at home. Most days he’d have a treat saved for her, even though she knew it must have been nothing short of torture to keep the precious candy stowed away in his desk all day.

  He’d always been a good brother, and she’d done her best to return the favor whenever she could. Like the time Rico accidentally shattered Mama’s favorite vase while roughhousing with his neighborhood friends. He was already on a short leash with Papa for earning a poor grade on his latest Geography test, so Gloria herself had tearfully confessed to the crime.

  Today, she finished packing up Papa’s things and moved on to those of her younger brothers, also filled with many memories. From hand-me-downs to family pictures and tattered school notebooks, Rico lived not just within every nook and cranny of that house but also every single object inside of it.

  She would never be free of him—not that she wanted to forget her brother, only the pain that came with missing him. Still, she could leave Texas, move halfway across the world, even, and Rico would remain by her side every single step of the way.

  Boxing up all her memories only to unpack them in her future home proved that she’d always miss him, no matter how much time or distance passed between her old life and the new one she was building now.

  “Mama,” she called shrugging into a light sweater. “I’m just going out for a bit. I’ll come home and finish up soon.”

  She rushed out before her mother could see the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. Luckily, the neighbors allowed them to borrow their station wagon for doctor’s visits and emergencies as long as they filled the tank up before returning it. This definitely qualified as an emergency in her mind. She just hoped nothing urgent happened while she was away, but she had to do this one thing before she could fully pack up her old life, had to do it for herself.

  Gravel crunched under the tires of the station wagon as Gloria pulled into the cemetery. Large, aged trees stood guard, separating the final resting places of the interred soldiers from the busy road beyond. The clouds hung low over the rolling hills as if they too had come to say good-bye.

  Gloria walked reverently toward the northernmost corner of the lot, mentally preparing for the newest installment in this seemingly never-ending series of goodbyes. But this time she was really leaving him behind—at least it felt that way. She knew they’d all think of him often, but no one in the family would be able to physically visit his grave and it would be all her fault for moving them away from here.

  What choice did she have, though? Sure, the new apartment would be smaller, but the higher salary meant Papa wouldn’t have to work so hard anymore, that he could enjoy Mama’s final days with her, that her brother Hector wouldn’t have to take over as the primary caregiver, effectively ending his childhood before he reached the age of twelve. Her path was clear, and it led to California.

  She knelt down, letting her bare knees sink into the spongy grass. Now she just had to find the words to say all that was in her heart.

  * * *

  James hated to leave California when he was so close to locating his mystery woman, but he also wanted to be there for his friend and to meet his new godson. A few days’ absence wouldn’t harm him any, especially not when Betty Jo and the other women at the diner had so eagerly agreed to be on the lookout for him.

  He managed some sleep on the plane ride back to Texas, but still he was exhausted as he drove toward the VA hospital in a borrowed car. James knew he needed to establish an official home base now that he was back in the States to stay, but all that would come in good time.

  Today he would meet his godson, and some day soon he would meet his girl. Now that he’d seen her up close, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the feeling he had for her was none other than love—love at its finest.

  A few short years ago he hadn’t believed in love at all. Now he not only believed twice over, but he also believed in love at first sight. How had he turned out to be such a hopeless romantic?

  The war, no doubt, had changed him. Now that he’d lost freedo
m, love, happiness, he knew how much they were to be cherished, clung to at any opportunity they presented themselves.

  When he found his woman—and for now he did think of her as his—he would tell her every single day how beautiful he found her, how much he appreciated her very existence. That is, provided she agreed to give him the time of day.

  But how could she refuse him when their love story was already written? Before they’d even met anywhere outside his dreams?

  He hoped all the women he’d spoken with on his journey—Diana, Peggy, Betty Jo—were right, and that she would find this all blissfully romantic and not frightening.

  Soon he would have his answers, know her heart, her name—but first he needed to meet another very special individual.

  Tommy, Diana, and their new son, little James, were expecting him that morning. He’d already stopped off at the store to find flowers for Diana, a blanket for the baby, and a congratulatory cigar for his friend.

  Would he, too, soon know the joy that came with fatherhood? It was such an exciting thought, his whole life coming together—and in the very near future.

  The VA complex came into view as he turned onto the busy lane. He passed the admin building where he’d obtained the list of contacts that had proved essential to his search.

  On the left, there was a veterans’ cemetery where many of his fellow servicemen had been buried. Although the day was bright, a low fog clung to the earth, giving the place an ethereal glow. He continued to study the graveyard as he drove, to offer prayers for those who had fallen in the name of freedom.

  And then he saw a dark-haired woman crouched near one of the fresher interments. He couldn’t make out much more than her silhouette, but something told him he needed to stop.

  He parked on a hill and walked down.

  She didn’t notice him at first as she sobbed.

  He didn’t mean to eaves drop, but he also hated to interrupt as she told the deceased of all the things she wished she’d been brave enough to say when he’d been alive —so instead he stood there, unmoving, but full of feeling.