Sew in Love

by Debby Lee

  Would Irving Morgenstern volunteer to go? Of course he would. If given the opportunity, he’d fly right into the heart of Tokyo and … and possibly not come home! Like some of the brave men from the Doolittle Raid. Like maybe her father. It made her heart hurt to imagine it. The realization made her stomach churn, and she dropped into a chair.

  No, not her dear papa.

  Not her Irving.

  The spring sunshine filtered in through the windows on Sunday afternoon, which helped buoy Irving’s spirits. That, and Stella had stopped in for another visit. She sat by his bed and finished reading The Keys of the Kingdom.

  The sound of her voice nearly made him dizzy, or was that the medication he was taking? No matter. Colleen’s words about Stella not having a sweetheart propelled him forward.

  “The doctor said I could walk around the hospital grounds,” he said. “Would you like to go with me?”

  Her smile made his stomach flip, and that had nothing to do with his medications.

  “Where to? I mean, you probably don’t want to go very far,” she said.

  “Just outside for a spell, breathe in some fresh air, feel the sun on my face while we walk.” Irving sounded so sappy he wanted to bite his tongue. She didn’t seem to mind though. She rose and put on her coat.

  Irving donned his bathrobe, and soon they strolled around the hospital grounds.

  “My father is in France, and it’s just my mother and me at home,” she began. “Tell me a bit about your family, if you don’t mind.”

  Irving warmed from the inside out. Family must mean a lot to her, as it did him. “Well,” he began, “my pa and ma run a chicken farm a ways south of Seattle. They’ve been making it go pretty good with the war on and all. My sisters help the folks out a lot.”

  “What a small world. I have an aunt. She’s married and lives in eastern Washington.”

  “Well, it is a small world.” Irving took her by the hand and they made another lap around the hospital. An hour later, when he heard the call for dinner, he wondered where the time had gone. She gazed up at him, her eyes as green as the fresh grass sprouting up in the countryside.

  Irving’s mouth went dry. He swallowed so he could speak. “I best be getting back.”

  “I’m off work a bit early on Wednesday. I can come back with another book. I can’t stay too late though. I don’t want Mama to worry.”

  “I’d like that.” Though his hands were still bandaged, he reached for hers again.

  “Hey, Morgenstern.” Jack chuckled as he approached. “I come to visit you, but I see you already have a visitor, one who’s a lot prettier than me.”

  Stella giggled and said, “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  Then she darted around the corner and was gone. Jack laughed and gave Irving a playful shove. If Irving ever wanted to put his buddy in a headlock, it was right then.

  Irving counted the days until Wednesday. To make it an even better day, the young doctor discharged him from the hospital. Signing release papers was a tad painful, but the pain was welcome. Not only did it mean he’d keep all his fingers, but that he’d regain full use of them.

  In the past few weeks, the involuntary twitches surging through his hands had given way to greater control. Given enough time, only scars would remind him of that fateful night.

  Jack strolled into the ward sporting a cocky grin. “You ready to get sprung from this place?” he asked. “The Officers’ Club has missed you.”

  “More than ready.” Irving grinned.

  That night he would finally return to his quarters and sleep in his own cot, but not before he enjoyed some more time alone with Stella.

  “But I’m not going straight for the Officers’ Club. Nurse Colleen said Miss McGovern planned to stop by tonight and read another book. After that, we’re going for a walk.”

  Jack burst into a hearty laugh and slapped his leg. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?”

  “So what if I am?” Irving shot his buddy a scowl that he hoped would silence the joking.

  The other men had teased him about it. When he’d threatened to write them up for insubordination, they’d laughed harder. Teasing from the enlisted men was bad enough, but he sure didn’t want to hear it from Jack.

  “Here.” Irving tossed Jack a small bag. “Carry my stuff back to my room for me, will you?”

  When his stomach gave an audible rumble, he decided to make one last visit to the hospital’s cafeteria but was stopped short.

  Stella breezed into the hospital ward. Her buoyancy lit up the room like the afternoon sun. “Afternoon, gentlemen. I brought The Grapes of Wrath with me. The librarian must really like the works of John Steinbeck. He’s put in an order for the author’s latest work, Cannery Row. It should be here soon.”

  Under any other circumstances Irving would delight in seeing her, but now that he was being discharged, he wasn’t so sure. Ever since the visit with General Valens, he’d waffled on what to tell her regarding his determination to fly again.

  The general had scheduled a meeting the next afternoon to check Irving’s progress. From there he’d be in training for a few days and then off to fly his next mission. A meeting that, to Irving, was bittersweet. He was happy to be flying again but anxious about invading Japan.

  What would he, could he, tell Stella? He prayed she didn’t see him cringe.

  The other soldiers in the room expressed their pleasure at her presence. They smiled, clapped, and motioned for her to sit by their beds.

  Irving was glad to see her too, but he feared moving too far too fast. If Jack hadn’t interrupted his last walk with her, he might have kissed her. Why did he feel guilty about the possibility of deepening their relationship? Maybe it was the thought of hurting her that made his heart ache. If he was killed, that would wound her for certain, but indefinitely? There was no way for him to know for sure.

  “Hello, Irving, I’m so glad you’re healed up enough to be discharged.”

  The rosy shade of her cheeks and the twinkling in her bright eyes nearly undid him. She flashed a bright smile in his direction.

  “Afternoon, Stella,” he said.

  She placed a hand on the shoulder of a tail gunner who had cut his arm while bailing out the back of a wrecked B-17. She sat down next to the soldier and said, “I’d like to read to the wounded men before we go for our walk. Is that all right?”

  Such a pretty girl, and so caring and considerate to all the folks she met. How had he been so lucky to be the one she spent time alone with? “That would be fine. I’m off to the cafeteria to get something to eat. I’ll be back soon.”

  “It’s nice to see you’ve got a healthy appetite. I hear the cook’s making beef stew for dinner. I bet you’re glad he’s not serving Spam.”

  “Yes,” he replied. She had no idea.

  Did he detect the sheen of tears glistening in her eyes? Rumor had it that every available man was being sent to the South Pacific to prepare for the invasion of Japan. If she knew about the beef at the canteen, she likely knew his mission. The knowledge probably frightened her silly, especially realizing that her father could be sent there. Yet here she was, doing her patriotic duty to help in any way she could.

  Not only did she have beautiful eyes and beautiful hair, but she had a beautiful soul too.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Irving said again.

  “Okay, enjoy your dinner.” She opened the book and began reading.

  He took a few steps toward the cafeteria but, hearing her voice, turned to watch her. She tucked a stray auburn curl behind her ear, placed a hand on the gunner’s arm, and then looked to the other soldiers as she spoke.

  Filled with compassion as she tended the wounded, strength as she faced the uncertain days ahead without fear, and kindness in stitching quilts for those around her. Above all, she feared the Lord. Yes, these were the makings of a beautiful soul.

  Irving pulled himself away and strode to the cafeteria.

  Before he reached it he smelled
beef cooking. Pausing for just a moment, he inhaled and allowed the aroma to permeate his nostrils. His mouth watered and his stomach gave an audible grumble. Anticipation filled him, and he hurried to where the meal was being served.

  Moments later, seated at a table, he stirred the beef, potatoes, carrots, and onions swimming in the thick broth. The first bite sent shock waves radiating through his taste buds. The second bite nearly made them dance and holler for more.

  Torn between gobbling up the meal and slowly savoring each bite, he decided on the latter. His stomach wasn’t used to rich foods, and he still battled bouts of nausea from the sulfa powder. He didn’t want to get sick, so he ate slowly.

  He took his time eating a healthy portion, savoring every season-filled mouthful. As tasty as it was, he passed up the chance for seconds. No sense in making some poor wounded man go without, just so he could be a glutton.

  There wouldn’t be much gorging on beef in the days and weeks to come. He thought about his meeting the next day with General Valens. The man wanted him back in a plane and ready to fly his next mission by early the next week.

  When he finished his meal, he went back to the post-op ward. Stella had finished reading to the men. Nurse Colleen wheeled in a cart loaded with bowls of steaming food for the soldiers. It was time for their dinner.

  Cheers erupted from the men and they clapped their hands. Content in heart and belly, a smile played across his lips. Time to take Stella for a walk.

  He held her coat so she could slip her arms into it.

  “Thank you.” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke.

  Irving took her hand and they walked outside.

  A short time later, they stood in front of a blue clapboard house. To Irving’s untrained eye, the structure looked sound but was in serious need of repair. He turned to face her, to say something, but noted her far-off expression.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes, it is.” And it was, because it was beautiful to her.

  “I pray that God sees fit to allow me and my parents to move back into it someday.”

  “I’ll pray for that too.” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed her fingers with a soft kiss. The radiance in her eyes made his heart sputter.

  A brisk wind blew over the barren hills as they hiked down to the water’s edge. The tide was coming in, and water lapped at the rocky shores like a zealous Labrador, ecstatic to see its owner after a long absence.

  “I want you to know,” she began, “I support you soldiers in whatever you have to do to win this war.”

  “I appreciate that.” Irving picked up a rock and tossed it into the surf.

  She continued. “But I’m afraid you won’t come back.”

  Dare he entertain the notion that he’d become something special to her? He certainly had grown to care a great deal for her. Not much else was said as they strolled along the beach, hand in hand, watching the sun say good night as it slipped beneath the horizon.

  The thought of hurting her tore through him like hot sniper lead. Much as he wanted to protect her from the possibility of heartbreak, he respected her enough to allow her to make her own choices. Isn’t that the way romantic relationships were supposed to work? Oh, why did love have to be so complicated?

  Love?

  The word sucker punched him in the gut. He pulled her into a tender embrace, ran his fingers through the soft curls at the nape of her neck. He whispered her name, again and again, but the roaring in his ears refused to dissipate.

  Wait.

  Roaring?

  What roaring?

  That wasn’t his heart revving into overdrive.

  Irving looked up in time to see an enemy aircraft hurtling through the sky.

  Instinct kicked him in the backside. He scanned the surroundings for a place to hide. A large boulder, hardly enough to cover one of them, sat a few feet away. He dragged Stella that direction and shoved her to the ground at the base of it, then covered her body with his.

  A final glance at the heavens revealed the Zero coming straight at them. Had he survived a fiery plane crash just to die here and now?

  The cracking of gunshots made his stomach clench.

  Bullets ricocheted off the rocky beach.

  Stella screamed.

  Chapter 7

  Stella, are you hurt? Are you all right?”

  Irving sounded calm but firm. Once she’d taken a few deep breaths and collected her wits, she realized that, yes, she was unhurt.

  “I’m fine, Irving, but I need to get home and check on Mama.”

  “Very well, let’s go.”

  Stella clung to Irving as he walked her home. Still shaken from being shot at, she tried hard not to cry. The bombing of Dutch Harbor had happened years ago, at the onset of America entering the war. Yes, the threat of additional attacks occupied the back burners of her mind, but she’d prayed it would never happen.

  Tonight it had.

  Irving spoke with gentle words and tone and held her close as they walked briskly toward her house. Fear hummed through her veins in a steady rhythm. She’d never considered herself a shrinking violet, but Irving’s arms gave her strength. Not only did this man have physical brawn, in spite of his wounds, but he possessed a gallant courage that had shielded her from the incoming gunfire.

  Then again, she’d received a taste of what the soldiers went through every time they were shot at. No wonder some of the soldiers were such a mess. She vowed to pray harder for the war to end. How much longer could it go on? Hitler was dead, so why couldn’t the enemy forces just give up?

  Stella fought the anger that brewed in her stomach as she and Irving approached her home.

  Mama burst through the front door. “Stella? What happened? I heard Japanese aircraft and gunfire.”

  Her mother’s pale face, her wide eyes, sent shivers down Stella’s spine. No sense in upsetting her further. As if Irving read her mind, he set about calming Mama’s fears.

  “Not to worry, ma’am, likely just some rogue Japanese pilot trying to make a name for himself. Your daughter is safe. The enemy plane is gone. Everything is fine now.”

  Mama ushered everyone inside. Stella, upon finding her manners, made the introductions. “Mama, this is Captain Irving Morgenstern, the Army Air Corps pilot I told you about. Irving, this is my mother, Ness McGovern.”

  “Wonderful to meet you, ma’am.” Irving shook her hand.

  “I’ll make some tea.” Stella placed another piece of driftwood on the fire. She added water to the kettle and placed it on the burner to heat.

  Mama motioned toward Irving. “Don’t sit in that corner. There’s a hole in the roof, and it leaks something fierce.”

  Dear, sweet Mama, looking out for her company. But Stella cringed inwardly. She was embarrassed for Irving to see their poverty. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked to the floor. Granted, many people were poor, and with rations the way they were, not many folks lived in luxury, especially in the Alaskan Territories.

  “You know, I can get some materials and patch that hole in no time, if you’d like,” Irving offered.

  Stella noted the tears pooling in her mother’s eyes and knew what she was thinking.

  If my husband were here …

  Stella mentally finished the sentence … he’d have this place fixed up.

  Mama must have drawn courage from somewhere in her underweight body, because she squared her shoulders, smiled, and said, “That would be kind of you, Captain, thank you.”

  They made small talk while Stella poured water into the mugs and placed the well-worn leaves into the steaming water to steep.

  “Don’t you worry about a thing, Mrs. McGovern. The officials in Washington are working hard at peace talks and discussing solutions to end this war.” Irving nodded at Mama as Stella handed him his cup.

  “My copilot, Jack Blankston, heard this directly from General Valens.”

  Stella wondered if he was telling the truth or if he was simply placati
ng a delicate old woman. She admired his chivalry and prayed he was being truthful. She pulled the current quilt from the basket and sat next to her mother.

  “May I help you with that?” Irving set his cup on the rickety table and reached for her needle and thread.

  To Stella’s amazement, he unraveled the last of the navy-blue thread and poked one end through the eye of the needle with seeming ease. He knotted the end and handed it back to her. Well, Stella thought, he’s certainly regained the use of his hands.

  “Here’s a pair of scissors, Captain, if you’d like to cut the rest of this nurse’s apron into squares.”

  “Thank you.” Irving took the scissors and cut the material, making use of every inch possible. When the squares were ready to be sewn together, he set them aside. Then he managed to unravel threads from the scraps and wind them around the empty spool.

  “You’re doing quite well with that.” Stella warmed at having him near.

  “I guess it helps with dexterity.” He smiled at her and winked.

  His eyes were blue, but she hadn’t realized until now just how blue they were. Her heartbeat, which had hopped along at a steady pace, did a sudden flip and took off like a jackrabbit. Whew, the effect this man had on her. Where had it come from? She cared a great deal for him, as she did all the soldiers, but there had been something about this man from the beginning.

  Dare she allow her heart to fall in love with him, when he was all but guaranteed to head south for preparations for the invasion of Japan? As handsome and gallant as Irving was, she wondered how he’d fit into her dream of the big blue house with white shutters. Would Irving want to live in the house with her parents if Papa came home? What if Irving came through the war unscathed but wanted to live in, say, Detroit? These were questions she didn’t have answers to, but she couldn’t imagine developing a relationship with him and then watching him fade into the horizon like the last rays of warm sunshine.

  Stella stole glances at him while she stitched the squares together. Then she added the nine-block to the quilt top. Her heart and mind were all a tizzy.