For the last many years, I’ve kept a stack of WWII-era photos and postcards on my desk while I write. I flip through them from time to time, thinking about the fighting men and women of the “greatest generation,” feeling those pinpricks of pride in my heart that my grandfather, Edward “Big Ed” W. Wedge, was counted among the brave in what is penciled on the back of one photo of smiling young flyboys from the 390th: “A swell crew.”
I have vague memories of attending the annual reunions of the 390th Bombardment Group during the formative years of my youth. I have boxes of WWII-era memorabilia that tracks his time in Framlingham—a book issued by the United States Army that includes airfield maps and Framlingham town photos, and chronicles the firsthand accounts of the 390th missions and general life both on and off base as servicemen invaded this country hamlet. Also helpful were an original newspaper from his Michigan town dated December 7, 1941 (Pearl Harbor Day), medical records, B-17 flight logs, crew yearbooks, dress uniforms, and a postcard of a young lieutenant smiling in a photo sent to his parents (my great-grandparents) before he shipped off to war.
For the heroes of the 390th, and all who fought so brilliantly during WWII, whose history and legacy we are losing to time every day . . . For those who ran toward trouble instead of away from it . . . For the evergreen courage that is a testament to us all . . . And for being willing to put their lives and futures on the line so descendants like this granddaughter can sit in a home office, thumb through photos and postcards, and pen a novel that is as much a part of my heart as any I’ve written before it . . .
Thank you.
To my ever-patient, protective, and completely wonderful publishing family at HarperCollins, I thank you for your belief in me: Amanda Bostic, Allison Carter, Jodi Hughes, Paul Fisher, and Savannah Summers. To Kristen Ingebretson—many thanks for your absolutely brilliant cover designs. And to my dear friend, editor extraordinaire Becky Monds—you make every day better for allowing me to share the stories of my heart. To Julee, for your beautiful skill and patience in helping this author gal take a story from manuscript to shelf-worthy book. To author sisters who stood in the gap, encouraged, or supported through the writing of this book: Beth Vogt, Sarah Ladd, Katherine Reay, Sara Ella, Rachel Hauck, Susan May Warren, and Colleen Coble. And to Rachelle Gardener: You are the best. You inspire me to be a wildly imaginative thinker and dreamer, and above all, you are a first-class friend. Thanks for all you do.
Oh, how I adore a good character name supplied by reader friends! Thanks to those who helped name characters in this book: To Maggie Walker, my bestie from high school, for embarking on a beekeeping adventure with this author gal, and for loaning her unique brand of awesome to Maggie Jane (M. J.); to the real Cebert Byron (or C. B., as you’re known), for mailing my many book packages at the post office; to my nephews, Ben and Eli, for naming two members of the modern-day Parham Hill crew; to beloved friend Marlene (Amelia) and her prince charming, Steve (Wyatt Stevens), whose Christmastime wedding inspired the love story between our WWII-era characters; to our oldest son, Brady, who suggested the enigmatic Henry Darlington (Darly) his delightfully rumpled yet very British name; to our youngest son, Colt, who inspired the curiosity of young Luca; and to our middle son, Carson, whose sketch of a curious figure in a top hat became the character of Keaton James from the very first lines of this novel.
For noticing a young art student who stumbled into class the first semester of college, and for the more than two decades of investment made in me since, I send my most ardent thanks to Anne E. Guernsey Allen, PhD, professor of fine arts at Indiana University Southeast. You helped shape my love of art and history, and to fill the space for which God was counting on someone to step in and encourage what seemed an incredibly faraway dream, He used you. Thank you for changing my life.
Thanks to curators at the 390th Memorial Museum in Tucson, Arizona, for allowing this curious author to peek through your archives and benefit from the absolutely brilliant information and legacy of stories you’ve gathered on this brave group of fighting men.
Big, bee-buzzing appreciation goes to Tracy Hunter and the rest of the farm family at Hunter’s Bee Farm in Martinsville, Indiana. Not just for the research tour of the honey-making world you’ve been experts at since 1910, but for helping this sometimes-fearful author gal and her bestie to buck up and be fear-less for one glorious beekeeping day. Many thanks!
To the amazing community of women at Southeast Christian Church in Louisville, Kentucky; to my momma, for reading the messiest of first drafts I could ever come up with; and to my best friend—my husband, Jeremy—for whispering, “Why don’t you marry me?” long before Emory did in this story and changing my whole world because of it. And to our three adventure-seeking sons, Brady, Carson, and Colt . . . Thank you. I love you all.
And to my Savior, who defines all that I am—every story begins and ends with the grace and ardent love I can only receive from You.