48

Leiston Army Airfield
Thursday, June 15, 1944

“We’re excited about the activities we have planned for the rest of the summer.” Violet handed typed sheets to both Rufus Tate and Col. Donald Graham. “Social, recreational, and intellectual pursuits.”

“The usual activities and weekly dances, of course.” Kitty smiled from her spot on the sofa in the Aeroclub lounge. “We’re adding a Ping-Pong tournament, a chess tournament, and a darts tournament.”

“A lecture series?” Colonel Graham tapped the paper. “That sounds interesting.”

“Doesn’t it?” Kitty almost bounced in her seat. “One of the staff officers is a zoology professor, and many of the men have fascinating backgrounds and knowledge to share.”

Including Paul Harrison, who was scheduled to give a lecture about China. “We’re thrilled about this.”

“The hoedown was a big hit,” the colonel said. “Are you planning another party?”

Violet looked at Kitty and laughed. “We thought about holding a Fourth of July party, but we decided it wouldn’t be proper to celebrate our independence from the British with the British.”

Both men laughed.

“So we’ll have a Fourth of July party for our men, and a party with the children at the end of the summer. Four times a year sounds right.”

Kitty nodded. “Some of the townspeople are concerned that we’ll spoil the children, so we need to keep that in mind. We won’t be here forever.”

“Not for long, the way things are going,” Colonel Graham said.

The Allied forces in Normandy had consolidated all five beaches and were steadily advancing inland. But Berlin lay many miles away.

The colonel smiled at Violet and Kitty. “You ladies have your work cut out for you.”

“They’ll come through.” Mr. Tate stood and tugged his vest down over his belly. “Best Aeroclub in England, I always say.”

Violet avoided Kitty’s gaze, or she’d break down laughing.

But she wouldn’t complain. They’d worked long and hard, and the results were wonderful—a homey club, plenty of stimulating activities, and good relations with the British, even after the arrests of Mr. Banister and Griff. The fact that the thefts had been a joint American-English venture helped stop finger-pointing.

The two men thanked the ladies and departed.

Kitty scowled, puffed out her belly, and tugged her jacket down. “Best Aeroclub in England, I always say.”

Violet laughed and linked arms with her friend, and they strolled down the hallway. Mr. Tate’s praise of the ladies’ work was as close to an apology as they’d get. Somehow it still satisfied.

In each room men chatted, read, and enjoyed wholesome fun. By boosting morale, she and Kitty were playing a small but vital role in ending the war, and she couldn’t be happier.

Adler walked in the front door.

Oh yes, she could be happier.

But the sunny smile he’d constantly worn since their reconciliation was gone.

Violet released Kitty’s arm and met him in front of the snack bar. His face was pale and drawn. They’d flown a mission today—was it a bad one? “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

He held up an envelope. “From Wyatt.”

“You haven’t opened it.”

Adler flipped it over in his hands. “I can face Nazis in the air and on the ground, but I can’t face my own brother.”

After what the last letter had contained, Violet didn’t blame him. She reached for his left arm, but the patched area of his flight jacket reminded her of the bullet that had gashed the leather and his skin. She rubbed his right arm instead.

Haggardness dimmed his eyes. “I want you to read it first.”

To screen it for him. She took the envelope. Kitty was in the kitchen, so she led Adler into the office and shut the door.

“People might talk. Leave the door open, please.”

“Not today.” She leaned back against the closed door. “I’m blocking your escape route.”

He cracked a smile. “You may be tall, but I can still toss you over my shoulder.”

That might be fun to try someday. “I don’t mind you running as long as you take me with you.”

Adler plunked himself in a chair, stretched out his long legs, and poked her toes with his. “The letter.”

She opened the envelope. What was Wyatt like, this man who might someday be her brother-in-law? Please, Lord. Let him have a soft and merciful heart.

She pulled out two sheets of stationery. Well, he certainly had a lot to say.

Dear Adler,

I’m sure you’re surprised to hear from me, but I pray you’ll read this and consider what I have to say. I need to apologize and ask your forgiveness.

Sounds like you and I finally wrote home about the same time. Mama gave me your address and begged me to write you. She said you’re a fighter pilot. I’m a naval officer based on the same island. Looks like all three of us are preparing for the same operation. On Easter Sunday, I believe I saw you in the park. I couldn’t face you then, but I choose to do so now.

I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about Oralee. Although her death was an accident and there was no malice in my actions, my role wasn’t completely innocent. We have a long history of competition, you and I, and I resented how my younger brother bested me in everything. But Oralee rightfully chose you over me. You two were meant to be together, and I was wrong to let jealousy take root.

When she didn’t want to cross that bridge and you kept coaxing her, all that resentment boiled up. My pride started that argument. My anger made Oralee cross the bridge just to stop our fighting. And my jealousy led her to refuse my help even as she teetered on the edge.

So no, I didn’t kill her in the eyes of God or the law, but my actions did lead to her death. Even though the Lord has forgiven me, I will always live with the regret that her life ended far too early and that your life together never began.

Please know I am deeply sorry for the grief I caused you. If you should choose to forgive me, I’ll be forever grateful. But if you don’t, I’ll understand.

I’ve never blamed you for wanting to kill me that day, and I forgave you for that long ago. How can I do otherwise when I recognize the depth of my own sins against you and Clay and while I accept Jesus’s astounding mercy?

As this war heats up, only God knows what will happen to us. I can’t head into battle without telling you everything in my heart. As much as we competed and fought, I miss you. I miss how you challenged me. I miss your sunny spirit, your passionate drive, and how you inspire people to do their best. You’re a good man, and I admire you, respect you, and love you. I’m a better man for having you as my brother.

I pray we can be reconciled and can meet again. I’m enclosing my address, and I hope you write me. Whatever you have to say, I can take it. Even if we’re never reconciled, please know I’ll pray for you all the days of my life.

Your brother,
Wyatt

While she read, Adler paced. And he perched on the desk, and he paced, and he inspected the pictures, and he paced. “How long is that letter anyway?”

Violet drew in a rough breath and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “It’s all good news. He wrote this before D-day. He loves you, he forgives you, and he wants you to forgive him.”

“Me?” Adler’s upper lip curled. “Forgive him? What for?”

“He feels responsible for Oralee’s death.”

Adler thumped into the chair and groaned. “Of course he does. I told him he was responsible.”

“They released the mail after D-day. He’s probably received your letter by now.” She handed him the letter. “He sounds like a very sweet man. I see the family resemblance.”

“Me? Sweet?” He barked out a laugh. “Darlin’, love has addled your brain.”

And she didn’t mind one bit. She studied his expressions as he read Wyatt’s words—the regret, the concern, the grief, and the gratitude.

He sat back in the chair and flipped through the pages as if something was missing. “‘My sins against you and Clay’? What’s he talking about? He didn’t do anything to Clay. Clay tackled me, and Wyatt skipped town.”

“I don’t know.” Violet leaned back against the desk. “Do you want to see him?”

“Yeah, but he said he was going into battle. That means he’s at sea, I reckon. All I have is his Fleet Post Office address. Who knows where he is?”

“The Red Cross does—or can find out.”

“You’d do that?” He gave her the mischievous grin she adored. “What’ll it cost me?”

Violet tapped her lips and smiled.

“I can pay that price.” He tilted his head to the door. “But not with the door shut.”

Not in the sight of every man in the Aeroclub either.

Violet opened the door, backed into the V-shaped space between the door and the wall, and beckoned with one finger.

That grin grew bigger and bigger and closer and closer, until it melded with hers.