“Don’t you just love Saturday nights?” Helen Collins asked with excitement in her voice, a gleam in her dark brown eyes, and a smile on her bright red lips as she scanned the occupants filling the dance hall at the Bloch Arena. “Music and a never-ending supply of handsome men. What more could a girl want?”
“Nothing,” Lois Adams agreed, while fluffing her poofy curls with a hand and setting her gaze on the bar at the far side of the room. “Absolutely nothing, and I believe I see an anchor-clanker who wants to dance with me.”
Giggling, Helen said, “More than one anchor-clanker.”
Music and gaiety surrounded her, and filled with her own excitement, Wendy Smith smiled as she watched Helen and Lois cross the crowded room, swinging their hips that were highlighted by their pencil skirts, heading straight for a lively group of sailors in their white uniforms and blue neck scarves. She loved Saturday nights, too. Every nurse did. So did every armed services man stationed in Hawaii.
Besides the navy, there were army, army air force, marines, and coast guard all stationed on the island. It was amazing seeing so many men walking around in their uniforms everywhere she went.
There were times when she pinched herself, just to make sure she really was in paradise and not back on the Nebraska plains, where this time of year a person had to be bundled from head to toe because the wind and cold had the ability to leave exposed skin frostbitten.
Her mother would be so happy to know she was here.
The sun was always shinning on the island, and even when it rained, it was over within a short time and the sun was back again, dried things out like it had never happened. In the four months that she’d been here, she’d rarely needed a sweater, and never a coat. Answering the Red Cross’s advertisement for nurses’ aides had been the best thing she’d ever done. After completing her two months of training in California, she’d accepted an assignment in Hawaii. The sandy beaches, blue ocean, colorful birds and flowers, lush green landscape, was indeed a paradise.
As a young girl, she’d been told there was more to life than living on the Nebraska panhandle, and had promised her mother that as soon as she was old enough, she’d leave. That had happened on her twenty-first birthday. That’s the minimum age the Red Cross required of recruits—between the ages of twenty-one and forty and unmarried. She figured if the government was willing to pay her while she was seeing more of the world, she’d gladly repay them by giving every man, woman, and child who needed nursing the best care possible. Having the time of her life while doing that was an added bonus.
Checking that the red belt was even around the waistline of her white and red polka dot dress, with a full skirt because she found pencil skirts too confining to dance in, Wendy walked toward the dance floor. That’s where she’d be spending the entire evening. Dancing until her feet hurt inside her white slingback shoes and she was so exhausted that she’d fall into bed hours from now tired and happy. That may not happen until sunrise. It so happened that her day off this week fell on Sunday. Tomorrow. There would be no need to be up and ready to relieve the night shift at the hospital by eight in the morning.
Facility 161, as the arena was known on base, was a huge octagon building that hosted, amongst other things, two bowling alleys, a boxing ring, movie theatre, and a circular dance room that had one open side, letting in the fresh island air.
Tonight, the Battle of the Music was happening, where navy bands from the ships homeported in Pearl Harbor would compete. The USS Arizona band had won the preliminary round of the battle back in September, shortly after she’d arrived in Pearl Harbor, and they were very good. However, she’d also heard the USS Pennsylvania band, as well as those from the USS Tennessee, the USS Argonne, and the submarine base band at different dances since then. They were all good and she wasn’t rooting for one over the other, would simply cheer for all of them and be happy for the winner.
The music was already in full swing and the dance floor filled with couples, including Lois, whose blond curls were bouncing as she danced with a tall sailor.
Wendy checked that the white plumeria flower she’d attached to a bobby pin that was holding back her hair was still in place behind her right ear. Behind the left ear would mean she was in a relationship, and she wasn’t. Nor did she want to be. That was another thing she’d promised her mother. To never let some man trick her into believing that love and marriage was what every woman wanted and needed.
Not her. She was the one in charge of her life, and would keep it that way.
That was something else that was so wonderful here. Back home, men were looking for a wife. Someone to clean, cook, and have babies—that would never be her. Here, many of the men had girlfriends and wives back at home, and weren’t looking for anything other than someone to dance with them. That was all she wanted to do, too. Dance.
Dance the night away!
Biting down on her bottom lip at the giddiness filling her, she found an open spot along the sidelines of the dance floor, and glanced about, looking for a partner. There were an unlimited number to choose from. Men greatly outnumbered women on the base.
A sailor with short dark hair—although they all had short hair—caught her eye. He was taller than most, his shoulders broader, and had an amazing smile that filled his face as he listened to another sailor, leading her to believe he would be a fun dance partner.
However, he appeared far more interested in whatever the other sailor was saying than dancing. She was disappointed, but with so many others clearly looking for a partner, she continued to scan the room.
Her gaze landed on him again, a couple of times, until she reminded herself that she was here to dance and smiled at a shorter, thinner sailor with blond hair who was looking at her expectantly. She nodded and met the blond sailor at the edge of the dance floor, and within seconds, was being sashayed around the wooden floor. He had happy blue eyes and was a fair dancer. She enjoyed the two songs they danced to, but was glad when another sailor tapped his shoulder, because she was looking for a livelier dancer.
She was again a bit disappointed that it hadn’t been the amazing smile sailor who tapped the other one’s shoulder. That wasn’t like her. She cared about a man’s dancing ability, not his looks. Dancing was when she felt completely free, like a bird let out of its cage, and she wanted to find a partner to match that freedom on the dance floor.
Her new partner was a bit taller than the last one, and she danced with him until another sailor tapped his shoulder. Thus it continued, with her dancing with so many sailors she no longer found anything distinguishing between them, other than none of them had been the lively dancer she was looking for, therefore, she decided to take a break from dancing. She made her way over to the beverage station, chose a bottle of soda, and walked through the open wall to the concrete lanai, where the slight coolness of the night air was welcome. Lifting the hair off the back of her neck, so the air could evaporate the sheen of sweat from dancing, she admitted to having noticed that the amazing smile sailor hadn’t danced with anyone. It was too bad. Some people just weren’t dancers. She could understand that, yet there was something about him that made her want to dance with him.
She hadn’t fully realized how much she enjoyed dancing until she’d started attending the dances every Saturday night here at the base.
There had been dances back home, but because everyone knew everyone, she’d had to subdue her enjoyment and be careful to not dance too often with the same person, because that could imply things that she hadn’t wanted implied.
Here she could dance with anyone without worry and she would find the perfect dance partner tonight. A real ducky shin-cracker. One that would make Fred Astaire jealous.
Kent Thomas McCallister, known as K.T. since birth because his father was Kent Edward McCallister, watched the woman walk out onto the lanai with a soda pop. He’d never seen someone having so much fun dancing in his life. He’d felt sorry for her a couple of times because her partners hadn’t been able to keep up with her. Maybe he should have felt sorry for them, instead.
With a white flower tucked behind one ear and a white and red polka dot dress, she was eye-catching, but it was her spirited behavior that was impossible to ignore. He made it a habit to not notice women. Yet, she’d captured his attention and held it for the last hour or so, despite his best efforts to overlook her and her dancing.
Betty Nelson had been his girl since grammar school, and had hinted that they should get married or engaged before he left home, but he refused to do that to her. The world was at a precarious point and he didn’t want her waiting on a husband who might not return. That was a chance every serviceman took. That would also be the ultimate broken promise.
However, he had promised to return to Oklahoma and to her if he survived his four years and would hold true to that.
Betty’s brother Wayne was one of his best friends. Wayne had joined the armed services, too. The army. Last K.T. had heard, Wayne was in Great Britain. That’s where his cousin Ralph Johnson was headed, too, or at least that’s what his mother had said in her last letter.
K.T. had chosen the navy because of the advertisement in the newspaper seeking welders. Due to the welding skills that he’d learned from living on a farm in Oklahoma during the Great Depression, when everything had to be repaired with whatever was available because there was no money to buy new parts, and even if there had been the money, parts had been hard to come by, he’d advanced up the ranks quickly. He’d been teaching others the skill practically since the first weld he’d made early on in his training.
He’d also mastered diving—an instructor had claimed he must have gills—and now the underwater welding unit that he supervised was highly sought. He and his unit had traveled up and down the West Coast, repairing navy ships in all the ports. That’s why he was here, at Pearl Harbor, which was scheduled to quickly become the Pacific homeport of the US Navy fleet. The United States had been dancing around the edges of the conflict that had been going on overseas for the last two years, and knowing it was inevitable that the States would eventually get pulled in, all of the armed forces were being fortified. At home and abroad.
Three years ago, with Oklahoma still dredging its way out of the Dirty Thirties, he’d enlisted in the navy, answered that ad, because he wanted a future. Betty hadn’t been keen on the idea, but he’d explained how everyone was struggling to make ends meet, and this was not only a way for him to serve his country, it could provide him with the skills he’d need to someday provide for a family.
She’d accepted it, and he’d assured her that the four years he’d enlisted for would go by quickly. They had so far, and during his two short trips home, she had agreed that he’d chosen correctly. She was proud of him, and he was proud of her for understanding.
The ad had said that the navy had been looking for welders, but he hadn’t planned that his training would also focus on diving. Yet, it was something he enjoyed more than he’d thought he would. There was an entire new world under the water and he reveled in the challenges of welding while under water.
The girl moved further across the concrete lanai, to the edge that didn’t really give much of a view other than the construction happening around the base. However, the moon, which was a little more than half, but not quite three-quarters, was enough to brighten the night and give her a golden glow silhouette.
Nothing about Oklahoma had prepared him for California. The West Coast was a sight to see, the lush green landscape, the hillside cliffs, and the ocean. He would have been satisfied to remain there, but with things escalating overseas, the powers that be determined Hawaii would serve better as a homeport, and since his unit was charged with ship maintenance and repairs, this is where they’d been deployed. At that time, he’d thought the sights of California had prepared him for Hawaii, but he’d been wrong.
Though basic in some aspects and sparsely populated, with red dirt roads and huge fields of sugar cane and pineapple, the island of Oahu was an enchanting place, beautiful. That woman standing beneath the moonlight reflecting off the tall palm trees overhead, proved just how beautiful. What he was looking at could have been a postcard picture. There were other people on the lanai, and he looked back toward the dance floor, wondering if she was waiting for one of her dancing partners to follow her outside.
This was the first dance he’d attended. Not because he didn’t like dancing, but because he usually watched the boxing matches at the arena on Friday nights, and one night out was what he allowed himself. He liked things planned and orderly.
He’d come tonight because of his unit. Several of them had placed bets on who would win the battle between the bands, and for no other reason than camaraderie, he’d decided to join them.
The others he’d come with tonight were on the dance floor, and he watched them for a moment, but his attention kept going back to the polka dot dress woman. What was it about her that he couldn’t get past? Or was it just him? Was the dance reminding him of home and all the people he missed? His mother would love to see this woman dancing. That had to be it. His mother loved dancing and he would write her about the dance.
Turning his attention back to the dancing didn’t help; his mind was still on her. Saying hello to a woman wasn’t going to change anything about him, but it would get her off his mind. He picked his bottle of beer off the table and walked out onto the lanai, didn’t stop until he was standing next to her. He looked up into the sky as she was, at the millions of twinkling stars. “Nice night.”
“It is. I think I could live my whole life here and never tire of the weather,” she said. “There aren’t even any bugs.”
“That’s because of the wild chickens, they eat the bugs.” Chickens? That’s all he could think to talk about? It was odd how the chickens roamed free, but the truth was, standing next to her had turned him brain-dead.
She twisted and looked up at him. “We had chickens in Nebraska, and still had bugs.”
He’d never seen eyes sparkle like that before and it took a moment before he could speak, “Well, then, I guess my theory has been proven wrong, because we had chickens in Oklahoma, too, and we still had bugs.”
“Biting flies?” she asked. “The ones that looked all innocent, then just like that—” she snapped her fingers “—they’d bite you with the sting of a hornet.”
He chuckled at her description, because he suddenly did remember those flies. Just as suddenly, the subject made talking with her easy, normal, like someone he’d have talked with back home. “I haven’t thought about those flies in a long time.”
She took a sip of her bottle of soda pop. Looking at him the entire time. “How long have you been here?”
“Three months,” he answered. “You?”
“Four, but I was in California for two months before that.”
“I was in California for almost three years.”
“Nice place, but this...” She let out a soft sigh. “Have you gone to Waikiki Beach yet?”
“No.”
“Hiked up to see the waterfall?”
“No.”
“The Blowhole?”
“No,” he replied again. He’d heard about all of those sights, and men in his unit had gone to see them, but he was here to work, not sightsee. He didn’t tell her that because she must live life like she danced, with an adventurous spirit.
“Surely you’ve at least gone up to the top of the hill and looked down at the harbor at night. Seen all the ships lit up bow to stern with strings of lights? It’s a sight to see.”
“Yes, I have walked up to the top of hill to see that.” She was right about it being something to see. All those ships lit up and the lights reflecting off the water was quite spectacular.
Her smile grew and dimples formed in each of her cheeks as she tilted her head to one side and shook her head. “Three years wouldn’t be enough for me to forget those biting flies. A person couldn’t even sit outside on nice evenings because of those pesky things. They’d even find a way to sneak in the house come winter.” She nodded, as if answering her own thoughts. “That’s another thing I don’t miss. The cold. The snow. The wind. I get cold just thinking about it.”
“What do you miss?” he asked.
“People,” she said. “Family.”
That was enough to remind him that it wasn’t like him to start up a conversation with a woman, and there’d been no reason for him to do so this time. It had been against his better judgment and he still questioned why he’d done it. All it had accomplished was make him want to know more. Learning more about her could never happen. He gestured toward the building, where music and laughter were floating out into the night air. “I’ll let you get back to your dance.”
“It’s not my dance.” She drank the last of her soda pop. “It’s a dance for everyone to enjoy, have some fun with people they’ll probably never see again.”
There was solid truth in that, and there were plenty of men who would jump at the opportunity to cut a rug with her. If things were different, he wouldn’t mind dancing with her, just because, unlike her other partners, he knew he could keep up with her.
“Ships, people, come and go every day,” she said. “Can’t blame them for wanting to have a little fun when they can.”
That, too, was the truth. “No, you can’t.” Tipping his bottle toward her, he added, “Nice talking to you, Nebraska.”
Her soft giggle floated on the air as she tapped her bottle against his. “You, too, Oklahoma.”
He turned, walked back toward the building.
She caught up with him almost instantly. “Aren’t you here to dance?”
“No. I’m just here to listen to the bands.”
“You can do that while dancing.”
He shook his head, mainly because he could easily give in and dance with her. Men with girls back home, with wives back home, danced all the time. He chose not to, and would continue to choose not to.
“You don’t know how, do you?”
The hint of teasing in the depths of her blue eyes increased her cuteness, and he questioned what was happening to his immunity to women. It had always been there in the past. Women wanted promises and he didn’t make any that he couldn’t keep.
“That’s too bad,” she said. “Not knowing how to dance.”
The open wall was right before them, as was the dance floor, filled with hundreds of people. “I know how to dance.”
She set her bottle in the trash bin, then planted her hands on her hips. “Prove it.”
He shook his head. “You’ll just have to believe me.”
She laughed. “I don’t have to believe anything.” Holding up a single finger, she continued, “One dance then I’ll have proof. Or are you chicken?”
Her grin said she knew that no one called a sailor a chicken.
If his first mistake had been to walk over and start up a conversation with her, his second one was his own competitive nature. She wanted someone who could match her energy, and he could do that. Prove it with one dance. What she’d said was true. Everyone was here for fun and no one could blame them for that. Not even him. He tossed his beer bottle in the trash bin. “Let’s go.”
Her laugh was light and carefree as she skipped onto the dance floor ahead of him. “That’s what I wanted to hear! And you’re going to have fun! I guarantee it!”
He was amused by her, and accepted that. They probably would never see each other again after tonight. He grasped her hand, held it over her head as she performed a perfect pirouette, then dipped into a graceful, perfect curtsy. Laughter rumbled in his chest as he bent at the waist in a bow, then he grasped her other hand and proceeded to lead her across the floor with a fast two-step dance. “You guarantee it, do you?”
“I do! That’s what life is for!”
It had been over three years since he’d danced, since leaving home, but it all returned quickly. She was graceful, her steps smooth and in perfect time with his, and again, he thought how he’d never seen anyone enjoy themselves so much. Her enjoyment was contagious, because he felt it seeping into him. He was having fun. There was no harm in dancing with someone. He’d danced with many different women back home and Betty had never minded. Nor had he minded when she’d danced with other men. This was no different.
Ready to convince her just how well he could cut a rug, he lifted their clutched hands, so she could twirl again, and this time, caught her behind her back with his free hand and dipped her over his arm. She laughed aloud, kicked one leg in the air as she popped upright and spun again in the opposite direction. He caught her around the waist again and dipped her over his other arm.
“Aw, Oklahoma,” she said with a cheeky grin as she popped upright again. “You are quite a ducky shin-cracker!”
He danced her backward in the fast two-step. “I told you.”
She pivoted on one toe, making her skirt swirl, and ended up with her back against his shoulder and her head tilted so she was looking up at him. “Yes, you did, and I hope you don’t tire easily.”
He laughed and held her waist as she spun around to face him. “You are full of challenges, Nebraska.”
The shimmering overhead lights filled her ocean-blue eyes with sparkles as she danced closer. “You love challenges.”
“How do you know that?”
“You’re in the navy!”
She not only had a point, she was right. He did love a challenge and hers was filling him with a delight he hadn’t felt in years.
“You just need to learn to have fun!” she said, grasping his hands and dancing him backward.
“I know how to have fun,” he replied, once again taking the lead.
The music was loud and the high spirits of the men and women filled the air, but her words rose above the noise as she said, “Prove it!”
He grasped her around the back with one hand, and with their other hands clasped and straight out in front of them, he put his cheek against hers and danced the catlike, stealthy steps of the tango with her, back and forth across the floor.
Her laughter was also contagious, because before long, he was laughing along with her as they continued to challenge each other with step after step.
As the band struck the final notes of the song, he gave her one last spin and ended the dance with her dipped over his arm again.
While the music faded, the crowd clapped, and after she popped upright, she did, too, but then also stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle that rivaled all the others echoing across the dance floor.
K.T. laughed. He’d never met anyone as full of life as her.
“Folks! Folks! Listen up!” the emcee shouted into the microphone, coaxing the crowd to quiet down. “We have a surprise for you! A jitterbug dance-off! The winners will be the last couple still on the floor after twenty minutes of nonstop dancing!”
She spun and looked at him with a mixture of anticipation and enthusiasm, and a clear challenge that was emphasized by the way she once again had both hands on her hips.
What could he do?
Except nod.
Wendy had danced plenty back home, the town hall had been next door to her aunt and uncle’s store and had hosted dances once a month or more, and she’d danced even more since arriving at the base—yet, she had never, ever, found a partner so skilled, so in tune with her every move. She’d been surprised when it had been him, the amazing smile sailor, who had stepped up beside her on the lanai. What hadn’t surprised her was how handsome he was up close. His eyes were an iridescent brown, darker in the center and lighter around the edges, and topped with dark lashes and full eyebrows. His nose was straight, and his jaw was well-defined. There was also a slight wave in his thick, short hair. Over all, she’d say he had the most perfect male face that she’d ever seen.
The rest of him wasn’t far from perfect, either. She’d had no fear that his strong arms would keep her from falling when he’d dipped her. His shoulders were broad, easy to hold on to, and he was just the right height. Not too tall and not too short.
It was a thrill to dance with him. He was energetic and knew a few dance steps that she hadn’t, but had figured them out by easily following his lead. His timing and rhythm were perfect, and tremors of exhilaration ran over her skin at the chance to dance with him again.
As the band struck the first notes of the dance-off, she threw her head back in laughter at how he bent down and crisscrossed his arms and knees in the Charleston dance style.
She loved the Charleston! Copying his movements, she grasped his hand when he caught a hold of hers and danced side by side with him, kicking their legs high and in time with each other.
He gave her hand a tug, and held their hands overhead as she twirled, and then, side by side, they launched into the fast side kicks of the jitterbug while holding hands.
Christopher Columbus, but this guy could dance! Unlike the other sailors she danced with, he held all of her attention. She’d known he would, right from the start. There was something about him that had caught her attention from that first glance, like when a person is window-shopping and sees something that they can’t forget.
They danced forward and backward while kicking their feet, and twirled about, met up and tangoed cheek to cheek before starting it all over again. He was in tune with her every move, and she his. They never missed a beat, never slipped a step as they danced across the entire dance floor, from the open side, to the band, and back again.
At times, they danced around other couples, and at other times, they’d release hands and separate, each of them slide-stepping around other sets of dancers in between them, all the while keeping their eyes on each other, silently communicating. When they’d meet back up after passing another couple, he’d grasp her hand and she’d twirl until her back met his chest, then loop an arm around his neck as he danced them forward.
She felt like Ginger Rogers and he was her Fred Astaire.
The Fred Astaire she’d been looking to find.
The music continued without a break, and even though her legs were getting tired and she was breathing hard, she never slowed. Couldn’t because her partner never slowed. That was fine with her. She didn’t want to slow down. The way he continued to catch her around the waist every so often and dip her over his arm was too much fun.
Every time he did that, or she would twirl into his shoulder and look up at his face, her heart did a tiny flip. He was more than a ducky shin-cracker, he had an appeal about him. A genuine appeal that might have left her breathless if she wasn’t already having a hard time catching her breath.
“They are dropping out like flies,” he said.
She glanced around, noting that there were only a few couples left on the floor. “Biting flies?”
He laughed.
Sweat was trickling down the back of her neck, her heart was hammering, and she had to suck in a breath of air in order to ask, “Getting tired?”
“I’m not quitting until the last dog is hung,” he replied.
“Me, neither.” Although she had to admit, “Twenty minutes is a long time.”
He lifted their hands, she twirled, and he dipped her over his arm. “Think of the band. They’ve been playing nonstop. That can’t be easy.”
“You’re right.” If the band could keep blowing their horns and beating their drums, she could keep dancing. Back upright, she caught the edges of her skirt with both hands and swished it playfully around her knees as she danced all the way around him.
Laughing, he grasped her waist when they came face-to-face again, and lifted her off her feet. She planted her hands on his shoulders, and as he held her so her face was above his, he danced in a circle before setting her back down on her feet.
She kept her hands on his shoulders as they danced a bit slower until it felt as if she’d caught her second wind, then she let go, hooked arms with him and they side-kicked their way across the floor.
Along the way, she counted other couples on the floor. “Five.”
“That’s what I counted, too,” he said.
They pivoted about, and started back in the other direction, this time facing each other and holding hands as they kept their feet moving in time with the music.
“What do we win, if we win?” he asked.
“I have no idea, but we will win,” she answered.
“I like the way you think, Nebraska,” he said, releasing one hand.
There was no doubt in her mind that they would triumph; she did, however, wonder why he’d never seen all the places she’d mentioned earlier. She’d done all of that, and more, within her first couple of weeks here. Every day she had off was another adventure. Tomorrow, she planned on taking the jitney to Honolulu to see the Iolani Palace. She’d never seen a palace before, and even though it was now the capitol building of the Territory of Hawaii, she figured it would still count. That was worth the forty cents it would cost for the jitney ride there and back.
She wondered if he’d like to see the palace. Probably not if he hadn’t seen all the other things, unless he hadn’t seen them because he didn’t have anyone to see them with. Not everyone liked going places alone. She didn’t mind it, but company was always nice. He would be fun, she was sure of that, but she’d never gone anywhere with anyone except other nurses.
He tugged on her hand, and she twirled beneath their clutched hands and kicked a leg in the air as he dipped her. Then, with both feet back on the floor, she laid one hand on his shoulder, and still holding his other hand, matched his steps in a quick, almost waltz-like flight across the floor.
She had never laughed so much in her life. All it took was one look at the smile on his face, and the happiness inside her exploded, simply burst and had to be let out.
As they reached the other side, a loud crash and clanging sound from cymbals being clapped together filled the air. It was a moment before she realized the music had ended.
Looking at her, with a huge smile, he said, “Congratulations.”
She twisted her neck, looking around him, and behind her, and realized they were the only ones on the dance floor.
As the emcee pronounced them the winners, she looped her arms around his neck and let out an excited squeal. He grasped her waist and lifted her off the floor.
She kicked her feet in the air, while hugging him. “I’ve never won anything!”
“Now you have!”
He let her down as they became surrounded by people, including the emcee who handed them each a small gold-painted cup trophy. Helen and Lois were there, congratulating her, and someone handed her a bottle. She was so thirsty that she drank half of it before realizing it was a beer. She’d never liked the taste of beer, but drank the rest of it, because she was still thirsty, and continued thanking people who were congratulating her.
The emcee was soon on the loudspeaker again, talking about the next band that would start playing soon, but Wendy wasn’t listening, she was looking for Oklahoma.
She didn’t know when or how they’d become separated, and scanned the crowd that was now clearing off the dance floor. He was taller than most and she spotted him already on the other side of the room.
He caught her gaze, lifted up his trophy, and gave her a nod, before turning back to the sailors surrounding him.
Wendy let out a long sigh, happy they’d won, but sad it was over.
“Who is that?” Lois asked, staring across the room.
“Yes, what’s his name?” Helen wanted to know, eyes in the same direction.
Wendy held the trophy against her chest, where her heart was thudding in a peculiar way. “I have no idea what his name is,” she admitted.
If she’d ever had a regret, that might be it. Not knowing her Fred Astaire’s real name.