24

Leiston Army Airfield
Thursday, April 6, 1944

Millie Clark opened her large canvas bag and pulled out dozens of tiny tote bags in various colors and patterns. “My mum made these for the children to carry home their eggs and sweets.”

“They’re darling.” Violet picked up a blue-striped bag.

“We used scraps. We didn’t do anything wrong.” Alarm creased Millie’s young forehead.

“We know.” Kitty admired a red bag. She brushed off some white powder and sniffed her fingers. “Smells like flour.”

“This one smells like tea.” Violet laughed. “How very British.”

“I take this bag to the grocer’s.” Millie snatched up some bags and inspected them. “Oh dear.”

Violet patted her back. “The children will be delighted.”

Kitty cupped her hand over her ear. “Here they are.”

The rumble of a truck engine sounded outside.

Violet opened the front door and beamed at the children climbing out of three Army trucks, the younger children accompanied by their mothers. “Welcome to our Easter party, boys and girls. Today we have special treats for you. When you come inside—littlest ones first—Miss Clark will give you a bag, and you can hunt for Easter eggs. One egg each.”

The children squealed. With eggs rationed and scarce, they were a treat indeed.

Rosalind and Sylvia lined up the children, Kitty let them inside, and Violet supervised the egg hunt in the dining area. On a platform by the office, the Buzz Boys played “Pop! Goes the Weasel”—with a splat on the trombone for the “pop.”

Soon about fifty children zipped around the club, laughing and calling to each other. As soon as eggs were found, Red Cross ladies showed the children to other stations.

Dozens of men helped with the activities and joked with the kids. In the lounge, kids sat on a canvas tarp and Rosalind helped them paint their eggs. In the game room, airmen and children played Ping-Pong, pool, and Duck, Duck, Goose. In the library, Millie and Sylvia helped the little girls make fabric and tissue paper flowers for their bonnets.

One brown-haired tot stuck a flower behind the ear of a mechanic, and he struck a pose like Carmen Miranda.

Violet smiled. If Mr. Tate could see the good she was doing, he’d drop his accusations. But Adler’s assurances calmed her. Mr. Tate had no proof she was stealing, and now that they’d locked the cabinets and trained the girls to use the logs, the thefts had decreased.

Back in the dining area, Adler and a dozen men moved the tables and chairs that had made hiding places for the egg hunt.

Adler glanced over at her. “Around the edge of the room, Miss Lindstrom?”

“Yes, please. We’ll leave the area by the bandstand open for our concert.”

“I think you’ll like it.” His smile sparked with mischief.

Last night he’d found her at dinner and told her he had a surprise for her today. Did it have something to do with the concert? She gave him a quizzical look, but he grabbed a couple of chairs and walked away.

That man. Still mysterious. And increasingly adorable.

After the children had enjoyed an hour of crafts and games, she and Kitty ushered them into the dining area and had them sit on the floor.

Tony Rosario stood on the bandstand with a trombone. “Good afternoon, boys and girls. We’re the Buzz Boys, and we’re going to play some tunes you know—please sing along—plus, some goodies from America.”

They played “Mary Had a Little Lamb” and “Home on the Range.” They played “Hot Cross Buns” and “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.” They played “Jack and Jill” and announced the next song, “Deep in the Heart of Texas.”

Adler climbed onto the stage, trumpet in hand, and he shot Violet a shy smile.

Standing at the back of the crowd, she gasped. His surprise!

The piano and drums opened, and Adler joined in, his eyes closed and his trumpet raised high. He played the melody, and the brass section sounded the four “clapping” notes.

Oh, how he played. The sound was so rich, so pure, so fluid.

Violet covered her mouth, and her eyes watered. He was connecting with his past and allowing the Lord to heal him. The most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

She was falling hard. Lately, she’d seen the attraction in his eyes as well. It had been so long since a man had looked at her like that. Dennis never had. They’d been partners, nothing more.

For years she’d felt washed-up and Amazonian. But not with Adler. Never with Adler.

His lips pursed on the trumpet. What would it be like to kiss him?

“Oh dear.” She was rationalizing that fling Kitty kept promoting. Such a bad idea, and yet it wasn’t. Maybe a little romance would be healthy for Adler, help him move forward.

Just last night, Kitty had told her not to pass up a fine man for a dream—a dream that might not even happen. She had a point. Convincing a mission board to send a single woman into the field might be impossible. And did she really want to go alone? For all Great-Aunt Violet’s zeal, she had Great-Uncle Gus at her side.

The piano took over the song, and Adler lowered the trumpet and his head, his lips in a thin line.

Did the music take him home to Texas, to when his family was whole and his fiancée was alive? Her heart ached for him in his loneliness.

Then he raised his trumpet and belted out another verse, his fingers flying and improvising a Latin riff on the cowboy tune. His face—she’d never seen such pain and such pleasure mingled.

Her eyes misted over. If he were to want a romance with her, even a short-lived fling, how could she deny him?

The song ended, and he met her gaze over the applauding children. She pressed her hand over her heart to show him how much it meant to her.

A quick bow, and he stepped off the stage and jogged to the front door.

“Say, boys and girls . . .” Tony Rosario peered toward the door, shielding his eyes. “I heard a knock. Do we have a visitor?”

Violet and Kitty exchanged a confused look. Nick Westin was going to distribute the candy soon, but . . .

What were the men up to?

Adler swung the door open. “Look who’s here!”

Then Nick hopped in. Hopped like a bunny.

The children squealed and bounced. Violet gasped and laughed, and Kitty dashed over and clutched her arm.

Nick wore one of the sheepskin-lined jackets the ground crew wore, only inside out, with the fluffy creamy side showing. He wore a leather flight helmet with floppy khaki ears, and someone had painted black whiskers and a bunny nose on his face.

As Nick hopped to the children, Adler stayed at his side, his wingman even now.

“Hello, boys and girls,” Nick said in a funny voice. “If you can sit very still and be quiet as a bunny, I’ll give you some candy.”

The bouncing and squealing came to a sudden halt.

Nick handed out candy bars, two per child. One to enjoy at the party and one to take home.

Violet worked her way over to Adler. “I had no idea. This is absolutely wonderful.”

“Didn’t know if we could pull it off.” He fingered one of the bunny ears. “Especially these. Finally sewed the tops of Cam’s socks over flight goggles to hold them in place. We tried to use wire to make them stand up, but Cam groused that we were putting holes in his socks.”

“Nick looks marvelous. And what a treat. Two surprises in one day.”

Adler shot her a sideways, lopsided grin. “That wasn’t the surprise I was talking about.”

“More?” She hugged his arm—she couldn’t help it. “You’re spoiling me.”

Now his eyes shone as if she’d given him a candy bar. More than anything, she wanted to press a kiss to his cheek, but she released his arm and checked her watch. “When Nick is done, it’s time to send the children home for dinner.”

“See you later.” He tipped two fingers to his forehead, then trailed after Nick.

What a delicious set of words. What could the surprise be? A gift? But she didn’t need anything. Still, he’d thought of her, and that warmed her right through.

In a few minutes, Violet stepped onto the bandstand, thanked the children for coming, and wished them a happy Easter.

The staff and airmen helped the children back into the trucks. Then they cleaned up the Aeroclub so quickly, Violet and Kitty couldn’t keep up with the activity.

After everything was put away, Violet headed to the kitchen to make sure preparations had started for the after-dinner crowd.

Adler met her by the snack bar. “When are you heading to the mess for supper?”

“About ten minutes.”

“Great. I’ll be in the back on the left. If you want your surprise, sit with me.”

“What is it?” She sounded as eager as the children.

His eyes crinkled around the edges. “Not what. Who. Someone I want you to meet. See you soon.”

And he left.

All the eagerness drained away. Someone he wanted her to meet?

Did he want to set her up with another man?

Violet pulled herself together and entered the kitchen. All was in order, and the supervisor had everything humming. She had no excuse to stay, so she pulled on her overcoat and walked to the mess in the dying sunlight.

Her stomach felt woozy. She’d been mistaken. The interest in Adler’s eyes was the interest of a friend, and she’d let herself be swept away. Thank goodness she hadn’t told him how she felt.

What sort of man had Adler picked for her? Most likely a missionary, stranded in the States by the declaration of war and drafted into the Army.

Her hand folded around Elsa the Elephant in her coat pocket. That prospect should appeal to her, but right now it didn’t.

Sending up a prayer for strength and dignity, Violet entered the mess and picked up her plate of roast mutton and potatoes.

Adler sat in the back left corner, but the man facing him was small and scrawny. As if her heart could fall any lower.

Somehow she found a bright smile. “Hi, Adler.”

He stood from the bench. “Violet, I’d like you to meet Floyd Miller. Floyd, this is Violet Lindstrom.”

Not only was he small, but he was young, very young, with straw-colored hair and freckles on his skinny face. What was Adler thinking? “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Miller.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, miss,” he said in a Texas drawl even more musical than Adler’s . . . and oddly familiar.

Adler motioned her around to his side of the table. “Floyd’s a new pilot in my section.”

“And boy, has Shapiro put me through my paces.” Floyd dug into his roast potatoes.

Violet sat. Not only did his voice sound familiar, but something about his face . . .

Floyd wagged his finger at her. “You’re trying to figure out where you’ve seen me.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she nodded.

Adler nudged her with his elbow. “You know him by his screen name, Floyd Milligan.”

Floyd . . . Milligan. It all made sense. Replace the crush cap with a Stetson. Replace the leather jacket with a plaid shirt and bandanna. “You—I’ve seen you in at least a dozen movies.”

His grin was as familiar as an old friend. “I’m surprised you stayed awake through that many.”

Laughter bubbled out. Floyd had always played the young sidekick, the kid the hero warned away from danger, and he was an impressive harmonica player. She clapped her hand to her chest. So many questions tumbled around, she didn’t know where to start. “You know Gene Autry and Roy Rogers and Trigger.”

“Honored to say I do. Not because Gene and Roy are famous, but because I’ve never known finer men.”

Violet faced Adler and clutched his forearm, which rested on the table. Her mouth spread wide and open, but no words fell out.

He chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

She could only nod over and over.

Adler turned to Floyd and tilted his head her way. “Told you she likes Westerns.”

Dinner flew by in a whirl of stories from the movie set. Tales of stunt failures, pranks, and mischievous horses. She hadn’t had such a wonderful meal in ages or better company.

There she was, talking with a movie star, a man who knew her favorite actors. Best of all, Adler had thought of her in a personal way. And he wasn’t setting her up with another man.

After dinner Floyd headed to the officers’ club, and Adler walked Violet back to the Aeroclub.

She strolled along, smiling at the moonlit sky. “That was a treat. I’ve met someone who fed Trigger. I can’t believe it.”

“He’s real down-to-earth too, doesn’t want special treatment.”

“And he gave me the best idea for our next children’s party—a hoedown.”

Adler laughed and bumped his shoulder against hers. “You just finished cleaning up the last party.”

“I know. Time to get to work. Wouldn’t it be fun? Maybe they’d let us hold it in the theater building, show one of Floyd’s movies, have him play the harmonica if he’s willing. We could have square dancing and serve baked beans and cornbread.”

Adler humored her and listened as she rattled off ideas.

At the Aeroclub, she went down the pathway alongside the Nissen hut that led to the side entrance to her quarters. She needed to write these ideas down before her evening shift.

She squinted at the path in the dark.

“Here. Hold my arm,” Adler said.

Although she did this every day, she didn’t argue. “It was the best day. The party went well, and your surprises—three of them. My goodness.”

He dipped his head. “I can’t take credit for the bunny suit. Nick—you know they call him Santa—well, he said it was only fitting he should play the Easter Bunny.”

“Either way, it was delightful. Then meeting Floyd—you know I enjoyed that.”

“Reckoned you might.”

She squeezed his arm. “But the trumpet—oh, Adler. You were so good, and I know how much it meant to you.”

When they arrived at the side door, Adler leaned back against the wall. “It was—it was right.”

She leaned back beside him, wiggling until the ridges of corrugated steel didn’t poke her shoulder blades.

“Comfortable?” He gave her an amused smile.

He was so close in the moonlight, she could only nod.

Adler rested his head back and gazed through the tree branches to the moon, about three-quarters full above them. “You know, for three years I didn’t think about my past because it hurt. But a whole lot of that hurt was from my sin, and I needed to feel it so I could ask God to forgive me.”

Violet hadn’t let go of his arm, so she gave it another squeeze, her heart full.

His jaw worked back and forth. “And some—a whole lot of that pain was from grief, and I needed to feel it so I could heal.”

“I know,” she said. “You’ve come so far.”

His eyes squeezed shut. “When I buried my past, I buried the pain but I also buried the good stuff.”

“Like the trumpet.”

Adler rolled his head to face her, and his eyes opened. “You’re the only one who knows what that meant.”

“Oh.” She could barely breathe in the warm glow of his eyes.

“Thank you.” His voice came out throaty and deep. “Thank you for encouraging me to play again, to write home, to remember, to . . . to feel.”

To think she’d helped in even a small way . . . oh, goodness.

Adler’s gaze softened and drew her, and he raised his free hand and stroked her cheek. Shaky. Questioning.

She let that gaze draw her, that caress. She needed to be nearer, to touch him too.

Then his gaze shuttered. His fingers stiffened. And he jerked to standing.

All Violet knew was she couldn’t allow him to flee.

She grabbed his hand and pressed it back to her cheek.

His gaze flitted, and his fingers twitched. He was wrestling again, wrestling with something deep inside.

Violet kept her gaze and her touch both firm and tender. Don’t leave. Not now. Don’t leave. The words dissolved in her mouth.

Something shifted in his eyes. Surrendered. He pulled her close, his hand in her hair and his lips on hers.

Never had she experienced such a kiss, wavering between hunger and hesitation. In the moments of hunger, she received, savoring and welcoming. In the moments of hesitation, she gave, affirming and adoring.

Far too soon, he broke away, his face crumpled up, his fingers coiled in her hair. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Out of breath from the kiss, she struggled for air. “Why not? Because of Oralee?”

He flinched. “No. Honestly, no. But we—you and I—we want different things in life.”

She had no answer, but in that moment all she wanted in life was Adler Paxton.

He uncoiled his fingers from her hair. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. I’m no better than Riggs.”

“Riggs? Oh, Adler, no. Not at all. I didn’t want him to kiss me. But you? Didn’t you notice? I was—I was willing.”

He grimaced as if she’d slapped him. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your willingness. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” But she was speaking to his back as he jogged to the main road. “Adler!”

He didn’t stop, and she didn’t follow.

Violet leaned back against the wall, and the ridges poked every bone in her back. What had just happened?

She pressed her fingers over her lips, still softened by his kiss. “Oh, Lord, what did I do?”