Ribbon of Years Page 7

  "Oh, yeah. That's right." He winked. "Missed your chance to have the all-around best redheaded pilot in River Bluff for your husband, didn't you?"

  She released a shaky sigh and returned his smile. "You're the only redheaded pilot in River Bluff, you idiot."

  "Well, I'll be. You're right about that, too."

  She elbowed him in the ribs, then moved away, clutching that silly dog to her chest. Jacob stood still, simply watching as she returned to the boulder where he'd found her minutes before. She sat on it, her back toward him, and he knew she was staring at the rushing waters of the river.

  After a long while, she said, "Do you think he'll come back?"

  More than anything in the world, Jacob wanted to comfort her, to promise that Del would be okay. But he couldn't lie—he'd watched men die, a couple of them in his own arms. War had taught him how fragile life is. They were here one minute and the next . . . blown to smithereens.

  Miriam glanced over her shoulder. "Everybody says the Allies are winning in Europe, but that doesn't mean it'll be over soon, does it? In fact, it means they're going to push harder. Right?"

  Jacob nodded.

  "I don't think I'd want to live if Del doesn't come back." She turned toward the river again. "Sometimes it hurts too much to be in love."

  "Yeah," he answered softly, "sometimes it does."

  Later that afternoon, as Miriam and Jacob walked toward River Bluff, they saw Gard Holbright's dark green Ford bumping over the rutted tracks in the dirt road, coming toward them. Miriam quickly picked up Sarge.

  Gard honked the horn twice as he rolled to a stop before them, then poked his head out the window. "Hello, Jacob. Somebody told me you were in town. Hello, Miriam. Have you two heard the news? The Allies have taken Rome."

  Miriam turned toward Jacob, her heart in her throat. "Is this it? Is this what everybody's been waiting for?" Is Del there? Is he in danger? Could a German be shooting at him right now?

  "No, this isn't the big push." He gave a slight shake of his head, then smiled. "But it's good news. Every victory for the Allies is good news."

  "Are you coming to the church social tonight?" Gard asked Jacob. "Everybody's gonna want to hear what's happening in the Pacific, and there'll be plenty of good cheer after today's news from Europe."

  Jacob nodded. "Yeah, I plan to be there. The McAllister boys never miss the good cooking of the ladies of River Bluff if they can help it."

  "Well then, see you there." Gard put his Ford in gear and drove away.

  Jacob waited until the car was out of sight before asking Miriam, "Will you be at the social?"

  "I suppose." Miriam set Sarge on the ground, then resumed walking. "Mother likes to go to all those things."

  "But not you?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. It's okay, I guess. It's just . . ." She shrugged again and let her reply die, unfinished.

  "It's just what?"

  How could she explain to him that everybody else—her parents, her husband, her neighbors—seemed to get something from church that she didn't get? Everybody seemed so sure about God and heaven and hell and salvation and the whole works. Everybody except her. Del wanted her to find something more, but she didn't know what the more was or exactly how to find it. Del had found something profound. She'd seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. It wasn't that she didn't want to please him by finding the same thing. Only . . .

  Jacob placed a hand on her shoulder. "Never mind. You don't have to tell me."

  She tipped her head to the side, squeezing his hand between her ear and shoulder. "Thanks, Jacob. Thanks for being my friend."

  "That's the easy part."

  She glanced up, realizing with some surprise that he was different from the boy she remembered in her mind and heart. Back by the river, she'd simply seen Jacob, her childhood friend and confidant. But he'd grown up, become a man, a soldier. He'd changed, inside where it mattered most. He'd been through things she couldn't even imagine. She could see it written in his eyes.

  "I was angry with you for joining up and going away, you know. Why'd you do it, Jacob? You and Del and Arledge. None of you waited until you had to go."

  "You know the answer to that, same as I do."

  "No." She peered at him. "I think there's another reason besides patriotism for you."

  He frowned. "You think I'm not patriotic?"

  "It isn't that. I just think there's more to it. You left so quick-like. You didn't even come to Boise to tell Del and me good-bye. I was awfully disappointed when I got back to River Bluff and found you gone."

  She thought for a moment that he was going to reach out, halfway expected him to tuck her hair behind her ear, the way he'd done when they were teenagers. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

  "I think I'd better get back to town. My dad's gonna be wondering where I got to." He took off with long, determined strides.

  He sounded miffed. But why?

  "Well? You comin' or not?"

  Miriam had to run a few steps to catch up. "What's gotten into you?"

  "Nothing."

  Suddenly she understood, and laughter bubbled up from inside. "Why, Jacob McAllister, you're still sweet on me."

  He kept right on walking, his gaze set on the road before him.

  "I think that's about the nicest thing I've ever heard of," Miriam said.

  He stopped. She did the same. When he looked at her, fire in his eyes—or was it passion?—her laughter died.

  "I'm in no mood for teasing, Miriam."

  A shiver raced along her spine.

  "Let's just leave things be," he said, his voice low. "This isn't a game, and we're not kids anymore."

  Eliza sank onto a wooden chair in the corner of the small stage at one end of the fellowship hall. It was the only available chair to be found. She'd never seen so many people crowded into All Saints Community Church, not even on Christmas or Easter. Nearly the entire population of River Bluff and the surrounding county had come to the church social. It seemed everyone wanted to celebrate the war news, as if they'd played a role in the Allies' march into Rome.

  She supposed it was understandable. The country longed for good news. Everyone expected the invasion of Europe to happen soon. How could they help it? Even the newspaper had a daily column entitled "Invasion Weather," where they reported conditions in the Dover Straits.

  O Lord, let the war end soon. Let there be an end to the killing and maiming.

  A deep sigh escaped Eliza. She was weary to the bone. Her head pounded, and she felt oddly out of breath. Perhaps it was the warmth generated from so many bodies that made the air seem thin.

  She fanned herself with a slip of paper she'd found in her pocketbook, all the while her gaze moving over the room, pausing briefly on familiar faces, people she'd known for a lifetime. It took her a few minutes to find her daughter. Miriam stood at the opposite end of the hall, Jacob McAllister at her side.

  Jacob had been a gawky, not particularly good-looking youth, but now he appeared rather dashing in his Army Air Corps uniform, his carrot red hair trimmed short to his scalp. He'd changed, matured, in the years he'd been away from River Bluff. There was a new strength in the sharp angles of his face, a new breadth to his shoulders.

  Eliza frowned. Miriam had been at loose ends in the weeks since Del's visit home. Miriam longed for her husband, and was obviously lonely and unhappy. It was a vulnerable place to be, especially for a vibrant young woman with a hunger to experience life.

  And there was Jacob, who'd always worn his heart on his sleeve, looking at Miriam with those puppy-dog eyes of his. No longer a boy, he was a man in every sense of the word.

  A man in love with a married woman. With Miriam.

  Oh no!

  Eliza's heart fluttered, and she pressed her fist against her chest.

  Don't let them do anything foolish, Lord. Don't let them fall into temptation.

  A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she closed her eyes, clasping her hand
s together in her lap.

  I need Frank to come back. I'm tired.

  Her skin vibrated over her bones. She touched her cheeks with her fingertips, as if that could stop the tingling.

  I want my husband with me, Jesus. I need him at home.

  She opened her eyes, but the room swam before her. The room and everyone in it was a blur of colors and strange shapes.

  She was hot. Horribly hot.

  What's happening to me, Lord?

  That was her last thought before darkness overtook her, and she slipped from the chair in a dead faint.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  WHILE MOST CITIZENS OF RIVER BLUFF SLEPT, MIRIAM TUCKER was among those few who heard the first official radio reports of the invasion of France. It was 1:32 in the morning, Mountain War Time, June 6, 1944.

  "At this moment," came the reporter's half-shouting voice amid the static, "the greatest military undertaking in history is under way. America, we call upon you to pray for the sons and the fathers who are going over in a great wave of Allied manpower, attacking the Atlantic wall."

  Miriam leaned toward her mother's bed. "Mother, do you hear? We've invaded Europe."

  There was no response from Eliza. Not even the flicker of an eyelid.

  "Throughout last night and today, all England resounded with the thunder of RAF bombers and the big fleets of Flying Fortresses coming and going. While the Allied bulletin did not say exactly where the invasion was taking place, a report from Berlin said that Allied naval forces were shelling Le Havre, adding that the bombardment was terrific."

  Del was part of the invasion. Miriam knew it without question. He was there, in the midst of the battle. Where exactly was Le Havre?

  "Just what element of surprise, if any, the landing troops achieved was not immediately announced by the supreme headquarters. There was no chance to hide the great convoys with only about five hours of darkness on the channel."

  Was Del in the air or on the sea right now? Was he already in France?

  "Although amphibious attacks are the most difficult in war, it's said that a quiet feeling of confidence has characterized the Allied generals all this week."

  Miriam rose from her chair and walked to the window. Stars twinkled in a moonless night sky. The reporter droned on, but she ceased to listen.

  "God, keep him safe. He trusts in You. If You'll keep him safe, I swear I'll trust in You, too."

  Eliza moaned, and Miriam turned toward the sound.

  The doctor had said it was a virus. Nothing to be overly concerned about. Just let the fever run its course and Eliza would be herself again.

  Miriam was frightened anyway. Her mother looked gray and sunken. She wished her father were home. She'd put in a call to him earlier in the day, but he'd been at the plant. She could only hope he'd received her message and would phone soon.

  She heard a soft rapping on the front door, and her heart jumped to her throat. Who was it? At this hour it could only be bad news.

  What if—?

  Her gaze darted to the radio.

  "A shattering barrage such as reduced the defenders of the Mediterranean island of Pantelleria last summer was laid down by the combined air forces. Added to this barrage was the thunder of naval warships off the coast behind the advancing naval craft. . ."

  The knocking grew louder. Fearfully, Miriam went to answer. She found Jacob on the opposite side of the door.

  "Have you heard about the invasion?" He was unable to disguise his soldier's enthusiasm.

  She nodded.

  "I couldn't help it. I had to come. I took a chance you'd be awake. When I saw your light on—"

  "I was listening to the radio."

  "We're gonna lick 'em. Hitler's on the run now." Exuberantly, he grabbed her with his good arm and pulled her close for a tight hug. "We've got that dirty Nazi running scared. The war's gonna be over soon. You'll see." He gazed into her eyes. The excited smile faded. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "Things're gonna go back to the way they used to be."

  Then he kissed her.

  For a heartbeat or two, she let him. After all, this was Jacob, her best and dearest friend, who knew her better than almost anybody. Was it so terribly wrong to be held and kissed by a friend?

  Then she thought of Del. Del, who was fighting for her somewhere overseas. Del, who loved her and trusted God and trusted her, too. Del, who would never hurt or betray Miriam.

  She pressed her hand against Jacob's chest and gently pushed away. "Stop, Jacob."

  They stared at each other for a long while. Regret, shame—a hundred emotions filled the room.

  Finally, Jacob took another step backward. "I was out of line. I'm sorry. I wouldn't hurt you for anything."

  "It's just that—"

  "I understand."

  She drew a shaky breath. "Do you suppose Del's okay?"

  He pondered her question before answering. "The landing couldn't've been easy. The Germans have been fortifying their west wall for most of the last four years. Only time'll tell how bad it was for our guys."

  "I'm scared, Jacob."

  "I know you are. But you've gotta believe it'll be okay. That's all any of us can do now."

  "Dad will be here by tomorrow night," Miriam said as she held the last spoonful of broth to her mother's lips.

  Eliza dutifully opened her mouth and swallowed the clear liquid, although it took obvious effort to do so.

  Miriam set the empty soup cup on the tray. "Would you like another sip of milk?"

  Her mother turned her head in a gesture of refusal.

  "Okay." Miriam reached for the lunch tray. "Is there anything more you need?"

  "Read some more."

  "What would you like to hear? A novel?" She looked for the book on the nightstand.

  "The newspaper."

  "The paper? But I already read you everything in it that's of any interest."

  "The prayer."

  "What—?"

  "Read the prayer again."

  "Oh."

  Miriam reached for the Idaho Daily Statesman and opened it to page two. Under the headline "D Day Comes to Boise" she found the article. Churches in the capital city, it said, had planned services at intervals throughout the day. All would be repeating the same prayer.

  "Read it again, Miriam." Her mother closed her eyes.

  Miriam folded the paper in half, then in fourths, and dutifully began to read aloud: "'Almighty and most merciful God, Father of all mankind, lover of every life, hear, we beseech Thee, the cry of Thy children in this dark hour of conflict and danger. Thou has been the refuge and strength, in all generations, of those who put trust in Thee. May it please Thee this day to draw to Thyself the hearts of those who struggle and endure to the uttermost. Have mercy on them and suffer not their faith in Thee to fail.'"

  Miriam paused. "Suffer not their faith in Thee to fail."

  Del believed in God. Believed in Him in a way Miriam didn't. She'd seen the deep, abiding faith of her parents. She'd seen it in other members of the church. She'd seen it in Del when he came home last month. And although she couldn't quite fathom it, she knew that his faith in God would be her husband's strength and shield.

  "Suffer not his faith in Thee to fail," she whispered.

  Eliza's hand fell upon Miriam's knee. When their gazes met, her mother nodded in encouragement. Miriam smiled in return, then continued reading, her voice softer now, her mind lingering a bit longer over the words, allowing them to sink in, to take hold.

  "'Guide and protect them by Thy light and strength that they may be kept from evil. May Thy comfort be sufficient for all who suffer pain or who wait in the agony of uncertainty. O righteous and omnipotent God, who in their tragedies and conflicts, judgest the hearts of men and the purposes of nations, enter into this struggle with Thy transforming power, that out of its anguish there may come a victory of righteousness. May there arise a new order that shall endure because in it Thy will shall be done in earth as it is in heaven.'"

&n
bsp; Eliza whispered, "Yes, Lord. Let it be so."

  '"Forgive us and cleanse us, as well as those who strive against us, that we may be fit instruments of Thy purposes. Unto Thy most gracious keeping we commend our loved ones and ourselves, ascribing unto Thee all praise and glory, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.'"

  "Amen."

  Feeling at peace for the first time in ages, Miriam lowered the paper to her lap.

  "I believe I'll rest now," Eliza said.

  Miriam nodded, then picked up the tray, rose from her chair, and walked toward the door. Still marveling at the sense of unexplainable calm that had overtaken her, she whispered, "I think I can rest now, too."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JUNE PLODDED STEADILY TOWARD JULY.

  Frank Gresham came home to stay, having left his defense plant job in Portland, and Eliza's health improved under her husband's watchful eyes.

  Jacob left River Bluff a week after D day. Some said he was called back to duty. Others said he'd simply grown restless. Miriam suspected she was the real reason—especially since he didn't tell her good-bye.

  Miriam received five letters from Del, all written before the Normandy Invasion. Four families in the valley had lost loved ones on that longest day, but the Gresham home received no telegrams. Miriam breathed easier with every passing hour.

  But maybe the reason for her calm wasn't because "no news is good news," as many said. Perhaps it was something else. Only what? She pondered that question as she knelt on the lawn, weeding morning glories from her mother's flower beds.

  Why wasn't she frightened the way she used to be? It wasn't because of the war. Young men from around the world—including Del, Arledge, maybe even Jacob—continued to risk their lives for the sake of freedom in this bloody conflict So what had changed?

  She sat back on her heels, removed her gardening gloves, then swept her hair off her forehead with the back of her wrist. Overhead, whispery white clouds, like stretched cotton balls, trailed across the blue heavens. A summer breeze caused tree limbs to sway in a gentle dance.