The Victory Club Page 16

  "But—"

  "I need to do it." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers. "Let's not argue. Okay? You go on home. I'll tell my folks everything after you're gone. I need to do this alone."

  She wanted to ask why, but he answered before she could.

  "I don't want you or my parents feeling like you've got to take care of me. I don't know if I'll be blind forever because even the doctors don't know yet. But if I am, I've got to know how to take care of myself so I can take care of you and our baby. That needs to start now, with me accepting responsibility for what's happened and what's going to happen. I've got to make my parents understand that, and I don't think I can if you're here. Maybe that doesn't make sense to you, but it's the way I feel."

  He was right. It didn't make sense to her. But she wouldn't argue. "I love you, Greg."

  "I love you, too." He stood, drawing her with him. "Want me to ask Dad to drive you home?"

  She shook her head, then remembered he couldn't see her silent answer. "No. I'll walk. It's a beautiful evening."

  "I'll call you later." Greg rested his hands on her shoulders. "Did you arrange for tomorrow off?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. In the morning we'll go downtown, get our blood tests, and apply for our license. Afterward we'll see Pastor Danson to make arrangements for next week." He smiled—the same smile that always caused her heart to skip a beat—and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  Dottie wrapped her arms around his chest and pressed her face against his shirt. "I'm afraid to leave. It's like I'm afraid something will go wrong and when I get up in the morning you won't be here or you'll have changed your mind and not want to marry me."

  "That could never happen, princess."

  "What if your parents try to talk you out of it?"

  "They won't."

  "But what if—"

  He buried his face in her hair. "They couldn't talk me out of it even if they tried." His voice deepened, a husky caress on her heart. "But they won't try. They love you, Dottie, and they know we love each other. They might not be happy about the circumstances, but they won't be sorry about our marriage."

  A thousand more worries popped into her head all at the same time: Where will we live? What kind of work will you do? When should I give notice at the base? Or should I wait until they let me go because I'm pregnant? Will your veteran's disability pay be enough to support a family?

  "Don't let your heart be troubled," Greg whispered, as if reading her heart. "Don't be fearful. He's told us He'll take care of us, and He will."

  Dottie believed what God said was true. She loved Greg, and they both loved the Lord. So why wouldn't the fear and worries go away?

  After saying her good-byes to Greg and his parents, she started for home. She didn't hurry. Her mother would be waiting with lots of questions, but Dottie needed time to reflect, to pray, and hopefully, to find answers.

  She hadn't realized, until Greg stepped off that train this afternoon, how much her life was about to change. Nor had she realized that change, even when it was something she'd wanted for a long time, could be scary.

  Why is that, Lord?

  Strange, how confident she'd been in the weeks since she realized she was pregnant with Greg's baby. Even when her mother condemned her, Dottie hadn't wavered in her convictions about God's love, forgiveness, and divine control. Yet today, all her assurance had turned to ashes. Why? Why now, when she had less to be afraid of than before?

  "When I am afraid, I will put my trust in You. I praise God for what He has promised. I trust in God, so why should I be afraid? What can mere mortals do to me?"

  She stopped walking, closed her eyes, and allowed peace to flow through her.

  "I trust in God, so why should I be afraid?"

  She was going to hold on to that truth for all she was worth.

  V-Mail

  To: 1st Lt. Richard Anderson, APO, N.Y.P.E.

  From: Lucy Anderson

  Saturday, May 5, 1943

  My darling Richard,

  I received a letter from you this week that was less than a month old. Sometimes it's hard, reading what you wrote while knowing so much more has transpired since you wrote it. In this most recent letter you reported the loss of some men, and my heart broke over the pain I felt in your words.

  I've had some emotional and spiritual struggles of my own, and someday, when we are together, with your arms around me and we have all the time we need to talk and talk and talk, I will tell you about them. It's enough for now for me to say that I am well and God is watching over me and I love you. You needn't worry about any of that.

  Word reached us of the American and British victories in Tunisia with the taking of Bizerte and Tunis. The general belief is that the North African campaign will end before another week is out. One of the officers at Gowen Field told me our forces should be in Italy by the end of summer. We says that's thanks to Allied bombing. If I've learned anything in the months I've worked for the armed forces, it's that pilots and their crews believe wars are won from the air. Without exception. You're a brash lot of braggarts! (And I say that with all my love.)

  Greg Wallace arrived in Boise on Thursday. He and Dottie plan to marry next week. I went by to see him yesterday after work. I confess I was thankful that he couldn't see my shock. He is painfully thin, and his face bears an ugly scar.

  I couldn't help but think of you, darling. How would I feel if you were seriously injured? Be safe, Richard. Be careful. Please. Ask God to set angels on the wings of your Flying Fortress. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide you through the skies. That's what I'm doing. Right now as I write this, that's what I'm praying for you.

  Our little Victory Club met again this morning after a two-week respite. I can't say we've been victorious lately. It's just the three of us now that Penelope is gone. (Still not a word from her or about her. It's as if she disappeared off the face of the earth.) We decided today that it's Pen's family who we'll strive to help for the foreseeable future. Stuart found employment at one of the movie theaters and begins work next week. We're going to make sure there's always someone available to watch the children and to prepare meals.

  Before I run out of space, I must share something I read in Philippians this morning. "Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. Keep putting into practice all you learned and received from me—everything you heard from me and saw me doing. Then the God of peace will be with you."

  Richard, I lost sight of that for a time this spring. My thoughts weren't fixed on the right things. They were selfish thoughts. I forgot that my faith has to be practiced. It isn't stagnant. It's active. I have to live it each day anew, just like I need food and water each day. I hope I never lose sight of that again. With God's help, I won't.

  I love you, darling.

  Lucy

  Chapter 46

  Stuart tugged the sleeves of the pink sweater over his daughter's pudgy arms, then turned her on the stool to face him while he attempted to fasten the top pearl-like button. Attempted and failed.

  "Whoever invented these tiny things should be hanged," he muttered.

  "Pretty." Evelyn rubbed one sleeve against her cheek.

  That simple word in his little girl's cherubic voice erased the scowl on Stuart's forehead. "Yeah, you're right, Evy. It is pretty." He kissed the tip of her nose. "And so are you."

  She giggled.

  "Ah, forget the button." He took her hand and helped her down from the stool. "Alan," he called in the general direction of the children's bedroom, "let's go."

  "Comin', Daddy."

  Minutes later, with both of his children sitting in the backseat of the Buick, Stuart drove out of the detached garage and into the alley. Gas rationing and limited income had made driving the automobile a rare experience, but he figured a wedding was a good excuse. Especially since he was scheduled to begin his new job the n
ext day.

  A month ago, Stuart would have found a reason to stay home. He was never comfortable in church settings; he felt like an outsider. Besides, a month ago he'd known the bride and her mother only slightly and had met the bridegroom once. But things had changed since then. Dottie and Margo King had been kind beyond words, babysitting and making meals for him and the children. They had proven to be true friends, giving without asking for anything in return. When Dottie had given him the invitation to her wedding, he knew—church or no church—that he had to come and offer his congratulations.

  East Boise Community was a small, wood-frame building. The welcome sign out front announced the times of the Sunday and Wednesday services in fat black letters. Stuart parked the Buick on the street near the sign, then walked with his children to the front entrance. The door was propped open, letting in fresh spring air. Stuart paused in the narthex. It was empty, but he heard voices coming from the sanctuary.

  He'd been told this would be a small, private wedding, but he hadn't realized how small. Dottie, wearing a soft blue dress and a matching blue hat with netting that covered her forehead and eyes, stood near the altar with Greg. The two of them talked with the pastor. Lucy Anderson, the matron of honor, stood on the bride's left. Stuart didn't know the best man, who stood on the groom's right. Margo King sat in the front pew with people he presumed were Greg's parents.

  Dottie smiled when she saw Stuart enter the sanctuary. "Here they are." She left Greg and the others at the altar and came to greet him. "I'm so glad you came." She glanced at the children. "Hello, Alan. Hello, Evelyn."

  "Are we late?" Stuart asked.

  "No, but now that you're here, we can begin." She led the way up the center aisle, pausing long enough to motion for Stuart to join the three family members in the front pew.

  As her daughter had done moments before, Margo gave him a welcoming smile, then slid to her right to make more room on the pew. She held out her arms for Evelyn, drawing the little girl onto her lap. Alan sat beside his father, looking uncomfortable in his suit, tie, and polished shoes. Stuart knew how he felt.

  "Dearly beloved," the pastor began, drawing all eyes toward him.

  Stuart and Penelope had been married at the country club by a judge who was a friend of David Ballard. The wedding ceremony had been followed by a reception with lots of fancy food and fine champagne, an orchestra, and dancing. Eight million Americans had been unemployed in 1936, but no one would have known it that night. The Ballards had spared no expense. The guest list had run into the hundreds and included the names of prominent members of Boise society—lawyers, state senators, bankers, and business owners. Even at the age of nineteen, Stuart had understood the affair was a production meant to impress others, not something Penelope's dad did out of love for his eldest daughter.

  Poor Pen.

  Stuart had believed his love could make up for what Penelope's father held back from her. He'd thought Penelope was as happy as he was. Stuart never made much money, but they did okay. He loved being a husband and a dad. He had been planning to start his own landscaping business when the war came along and threw a monkey wrench into his plans.

  If he had to pick a point when things started going wrong for him and Penelope, it would be right after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. Things went from bad to worse after he fell off that cursed ladder.

  Swallowing a sigh, Stuart shook off his thoughts and focused his attention on the bride and groom. Only it hurt to do that. Dottie was radiant. She looked at Greg as if he'd hung the moon and the stars.

  Lucky guy. When was the last time Penelope looked at me like that?

  Stuart couldn't remember. Seemed forever. He hoped things would work out better for these two. It wasn't as if they didn't have a strike against them, what with Greg being blinded in the war.

  Blind, but still lucky.

  As he watched, the couple bowed their heads in prayer above their joined hands. United. The two of them were united in love, united in faith.

  Maybe it was their faith that would make the difference. Stuart hoped so, for their sake. Love hadn't been enough for Stuart and Penelope Maxfield, and they sure hadn't had any faith in God to unite them.

  Chapter 47

  Standing to the left and behind the bride, Lucy wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. Her feelings throughout the ceremony had been bittersweet. Sweet with gladness for the bride and groom, understanding the joy they felt, memories of her own wedding day so clear in her mind. Bitter because of the way she'd failed Richard, failed herself, failed her Lord.

  You were running the race so well. Who has held you back from following the truth?

  The verse from Galatians pierced her heart, as it had when she read it a few days ago. Who'd held her back from her walk of faith? She had. She'd held herself back. She'd given in to her selfish nature, her willfulness, her pride. She wanted to hang her head in shame.

  "I now pronounce you man and wife."

  Hearing the pastor's words, Lucy shook off her guilty thoughts. This was not the time to dwell on herself and her mistakes. This was a day to think of others and to celebrate with them.

  When it was her turn to congratulate the newlyweds, Lucy embraced Dottie and whispered in her ear, "God bless you both."

  "He already has." Dottie drew back and met Lucy's gaze. Her smile was breathtaking, innocent, stunning. "God's grace is so amazing, isn't it? Thanks for being my matron of honor."

  "I'm honored you asked me." Lucy turned toward the groom, put her hands on his shoulders, and said, "God bless you, Greg. May your marriage be filled with joy"

  "Thanks, Lucy."

  She kissed his left cheek, below the white gauze bandage. "Stay close to the Lord and you won't go wrong."

  This wasn't the sort of wedding where people lingered for punch, cake, and the opening of gifts. The newlyweds weren't going away for a honeymoon, and there was no tossing of the bouquet. Within half an hour, everyone dispersed.

  "Can I give you a lift home?" Stuart asked Lucy as he and his children followed her outside into the gathering dusk.

  Lucy glanced at the automobile parked in front of the church. She wasn't looking forward to the solitary walk home. "Are you sure you wouldn't mind, Stuart? I know how precious gas is."

  "I don't mind. It's a treat for the kids to go for a ride. Haven't had the Buick out of the garage in ages."

  "All right, then. I accept."

  Stuart walked to the car and opened the front and back passenger doors. Alan climbed onto the backseat, then Stuart lifted Evelyn into place beside her brother while Lucy slid onto the front seat. A minute later, Stuart was behind the wheel and pulling away from the curb.

  "Do you think they'll make it?" he asked after a short silence.

  Lucy stared out the window. "Yes, I'm sure they will."

  "What makes you so sure?"

  It was a fair question. Hadn't Penelope loved Stuart when they married? And yet she left him. Didn't Lucy love Richard? And yet she betrayed him with her heart. How could she be certain Dottie and Greg would succeed where others failed?

  Stuart didn't wait for Lucy's answer. "Dottie's pregnant, isn't she?"

  "She didn't tell you?" Lucy looked over at Stuart. "I thought she might have."

  He gave his head a slow shake. "No, she didn't tell me. But something about her appearance tonight made me remember Pen when she was expecting. That and their hurry to get married as soon as Greg got back from the war. It wasn't hard to put two and two together and come up with four. If she wasn't expecting, I figured they'd have waited at least a couple more weeks so they could plan a wedding with all the frills."

  "You're very astute."

  "Not really. If I was, I'd've known what Pen was planning."

  Hearing the pain in his voice, Lucy's heart went out to him. "Still no word of her whereabouts?"

  "Not to me, but I suspect her mother's heard something." He cast a quick glance in Lucy's direction. "Last time Julia came by to see the kids, I
could tell she wasn't as worried about Pen as she was before."

  "But surely Mrs. Ballard would tell you if she knew where Penelope is."

  Stuart's laugh was tinged with bitterness. "I doubt Pen told her that. She most likely called to say she was okay. She wouldn't want her dad to discover her location. She'd be afraid he'd come after her. He's never liked me, but he hates failure in his children more."

  "I'm sorry," Lucy said softly. Sorry that Penelope's father was harsh and cold? Sorry Stuart's marriage had faltered and his heart was broken? Sorry for bringing up a tender subject? Even she wasn't certain which it was. Maybe all three.

  "Yeah. Me, too."

  They fell into silence, the remainder of the drive accompanied by the hum of the Buick's engine and three-year-old Evelyn's singsong voice as she chattered in the backseat.

  It wasn't until Stuart stopped the car in front of her apartment that Lucy looked at him again. "Perhaps I shouldn't ask this. It isn't any of my business, and you're welcome to tell me to stay out of yours if you want. But I … I'm curious. Would you take Pen back if she wanted to return?"

  Would Richard take me back if he learned how I failed him?

  Stuart sighed heavily as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I don't know."

  His response made her wince on the inside. When the day came—as it most surely would come—that she confessed her sins to her husband, she hoped Richard would respond more positively than Stuart just did.

  Chapter 48

  Dottie stood in the bathroom of the bridal suite, staring into the mirror above the sink. But it wasn't her reflection she saw. Instead, she remembered the night she and Greg gave in to their desire, breaking their vow of chastity.

  Oh, Father. Help me put that night behind me.

  On that night, they hadn't dined on room service while the lights of Boise came alive outside.

  You've removed my sin as far as the east is from the west. Help me never to forget that.