A WINTER ROMANCE
 Patti Ann Colt

 

Today

Echo Falls, Texas

 

Olivia Applegate sighed and set her tea on the table by the rocking chair.  There was always such absolute silence in the house after the family left from Sunday dinners.  She padded around the room, turning out all the lights, save one.   She shifted the rocking chair until she could look out the window, across her porch and lawn – the evening was dark, cold and raining, but the neighbors’ Christmas lights blinked merrily in the gathering darkness.

 

Her bones creaked as she eased into the chair and wrapped the comforter from the back around her shoulders.  The quilt had been a wedding gift from her great aunts, sewn with loving care.  The bright yellows, greens, and blues of the wedding ring pattern were faded, but still beautiful.  It was their quilt – hers and Thomas’s – and had been on their bed on their wedding night and for years after . . . comforting them when they were tired, reminding them of their commitment, sharing their passion.  A slight smile creased her lips in memory. 

She settled further into the chair, lifted her tea, and gently began to rock, seeing snowflakes spitting down from the sky and onto her lighted porch.  She took a sip of the orange tea – one of Thomas’s favorites—

 …and remembered.

 

 December 4, 1941

“Olivia Violet Carnahan!” 

Olivia jerked at her mother’s yell and bumped her head on the muffler of the car.

“Better come out of there, Shortcake.  Can’t hide you from your mother.”  Her father bent and eyed her, his sigh most likely at the oil and dirt on her coveralls.  “She’s going to skin me alive,” he muttered.

Olivia rolled out from under the car and rose, shivering slightly in the cold of her father’s automotive shop.  “She never lets me have any fun.”  She’d let her lip quiver, but her father hadn’t fallen for that kind of thing since she was eight, certainly not at the eighteen she was now.

The door from the office/waiting room slammed.   “Olivia!”

She tensed, and then sighed.   “Here, Mama.”  She handed the wrench to her father.

“Girl, we were supposed to be at Ruth Applegate’s for tea ten minutes ago.”  Her mother stopped mid-stride, her mouth forming a horrified ‘oh’ when she laid eyes on Olivia’s clothes.  “What is this?”

“Now, Abigail.  She was helping out.”  Her father’s attempt to deflect her mother spurred her to action.  She didn’t want him getting in trouble for indulging her passion for auto mechanics or end up in a discussion about her dream of being a partner in the auto shop.

“I’m all covered up, Mama.”  She stripped off the greasy coveralls, revealing her best black skirt and pale blue cashmere sweater.   “I left my shoes under the desk in the office.”  She kept a work pair of shoes in the same spot.

“Go trade this instant and wash your hands,” her mother ordered, clucking at the grease under Olivia’s nails and giving her husband an exasperated look.

“Stan, how could you . . . “

Olivia twisted to push the bathroom door open with her back so she could see how bad the argument was going to be.  Her father, his usual charming self, had an arm around her mother and was kissing her cheek.

“Now Abigail, she’s good.  Doesn’t hurt her to practice and get better.  Makes her part my daughter, too, I guess.” 

“She has no need for that skill.  Once she marries, she’ll . . .”

The bell rang in the office indicating a customer and the bathroom door shut, blocking out the rest of what her mother said.  Olivia ground her teeth and made her way to the sink, staring at herself in the mirror.  The bathroom was chilly and she shivered again.  She washed and washed her hands, using the special soap her father kept.  Thick, black oil coagulated under her nails, but she had nothing to take care of the stains, so she reached for a paper towel to dry her hands. 

Her hair had escaped the confines of the bun she’d rolled it into before shimmying under the car.  The bathroom was only lit with one light bulb, but she could see enough to rearrange the golden locks into a more pleasing arrangement.  She didn’t want to go to Ruth Applegate’s.   Going there for tea was a thinly-veiled attempt by both women to play matchmaker.  Ruth Applegate’s son, Thomas, was home on leave from the Air Corps for the first time in almost a year.  And the two women wanted them to meet.  She remembered Thomas from school.  He was three years ahead of her, but his family went to their church.  He hadn’t ever given her a passing hello.  She was short and skinny and her best feature was her hair.  Not many boys wanted to hang out with a girl whose favorite spot was under a car instead of the back seat.

 “Olivia!  Quit wool-gathering.”  Her mother’s voice outside the door startled her.  She sucked in a deep breath and vowed to get the visit over with so she could sneak back to the shop later and finish the job she’d started.

She opened the door.  Her mother handed her the shoes that matched her skirt, a brush and tube of lipstick.  “Hurry up.  We don’t want to keep Ruth and Thomas waiting.”

 

 Thomas Applegate lifted the heavy silver tray to the table at his mother’s side.  The Christmas sugar cookies were decorated in greens and reds with lots of sprinkles the way he liked them.  He swiped one off the tray, avoiding his mother’s swatting hand.   “Mother, do we have to do this?”

“Yes, we do.  Abigail Carnahan has become a good friend since you’ve been away. “

His mother made his being away sound like he’d been on vacation, not training to be the tail gunner on a bomber crew in the Army Air Force.  He stifled a sigh and a sarcastic comment by biting into the cookie and enjoying the flash of sweetness on his tongue.   He didn’t need a wife, didn’t want a wife.  Nor a girlfriend either.   He’d quit college a year ago, concerned about how much it was costing his parents, and joined the Air Corps to fight the Nazis.  The general consensus was the United States would enter the war soon and he wanted to be on the front line, working hard to defeat those murdering bastards.  He intended to proceed with his goal.  Alone.

His mother, however, was on a single track.  “You’ll adore Olivia.  She’s sweet and punctual.”

Thomas frowned.   Punctual was the best his mother could come up with?  He vaguely remembered the girl from church.  Short and slender with locks of gold hair and a cute little behind.   Spunky was the best word to describe her.   Definitely not the tall, buxom, lean type he was accustomed to putting on his arm.  Again, he stifled his impatience.  He was only home for a short time. Not long enough to do anything more than be pleasant at an afternoon’s tea.

The doorbell rang.  His mother jumped in her chair and started to rise.  “Oh, that must be them.”

“Stay put, Mother.  I’ll get it.”  He shooed his mother back to her chair in front of the silver service.”

Finished eating the cookie, he dusted off his hands on the back of his brown trousers, and made his way to the front door.  The house smelled of pine and freshly baked bread and he basked in the scents – much better than the barracks.  He reached the front door as the bell pealed again.

He opened the front door.  “Good afternoon, ladies.  Mrs. Carnahan.  Miss Carnahan.”  He’d meant to smile, but at that moment he got a good look at Olivia.  Her deep blue eyes locked to his, and he tumbled.  Tumbled like the roll of a plane in a deep blue sky, disoriented and not knowing which way was earth – up or down.

“Hello, Thomas.  I wasn’t sure you’d remember us,” Mrs. Carnahan said.

“Of course, I do,” he uttered, struggling to breathe, to break the connection. 

Olivia looked pole-axed, too.  Her mother gave her a small shove and he stepped back to keep from colliding with her as she entered the house.    Her navy blue wool jacket set off her golden hair like a halo.  Her cheeks tinged with red, enough to make him wonder if she was blushing with embarrassment or if cold kissed her cheeks from the northerly wind shoving a few errant leaves across the entryway floor.

He shut the door behind the two women, awkwardly playing with the collar of his shirt before turning around.  “Please follow me.  We’re having tea in the library.”

He glanced at Olivia again, only to be discomfited by the look on her face – like he was steak when all she had been eating was eggs and beans.  He didn’t dare look at her again.  He couldn’t have felt what he did when he looked at her.  He’d had damn little time for a personal life the last year.  Obviously, he needed to make some time before he succumbed to desperation.

He preceded the women into the library, feeling eyes on his back.  He fought the urge to turn around and see if she was checking him out.  He stepped aside and indicated the chairs.  Swallowing hard, he blanked his face.  Having his mother get any idea how hot and bothered he’d become would not do.  She was such a matchmaker and frankly he wasn’t going to get tangled up with any relationships while at home.

“Abigail!”  His mother rose for her seat to hug the older woman.  “And Olivia.”

Olivia dutifully allowed his mother to pull her into an embrace. “Mrs. Applegate.” 

He drew in a sharp breath as her soft, husky tone settled over him.  Then he noted her pale hands as they embraced his mother.  Was that black under her fingernails?  He watched silently while the two women seated themselves, confused by the contrasting images in front of him.

“Sit, Thomas.”  His mother eyed him with a knowing look and began to pour tea.

Flushing, he dropped into a wingback chair near his mother.  Stifling the need to squirm, he accepted a cup of tea and a cookie from the tray and settled in for an uncomfortable afternoon of chit chat.

 

 

December 7, 1941, 1 PM

He had to escape.  If he spent one more minute in this house listening to his mother he’d hop a plane and walk straight into a battle zone on the European front.  “Olivia loves children.  You should see what she does with the young ones at church,” he mimicked under his breath.  “Olivia does such a wonderful job of helping her mother.  She’ll be a good housekeeper.”  He would only be home for thirty days and he’d listened to this talk since the tea two afternoons ago.  That didn’t bode well for the remaining twenty-eight days.

“Did you say something, dear?”  His mother bustled about.  She wore a black skirt and a green shirt – festive for the Christmas season – covered with a white apron.  The iron was hot and several of his shirts lay on the table to be pressed.  Bread dough sat rising on the stove. 

Thomas cleared his throat.  “Breakfast was great, Mother.  Thank you.”

The plate in question sat empty before him.  He managed to do justice to mountains of hash browns and eggs and ham.   And he was a schmuck to be so prickly about the conversation. 

“You’re welcome, dear.  So glad you got a chance to sleep in.”

He rose and put his empty coffee cup and plate into the sink.   “I’m going out, Mother.”

“What are you going to do?”  She paused at the sink and quickly washed his dishes, setting them in the rack to dry.

He shook his head as he watched her.  Some kind of mother magic made dishes disappear and shirts become ironed.  He’d never understood where she got her energy and her organization skills.  “I want to walk around town, see the sights, maybe drop in and see Father at work.  He left the house early this morning.”

“Yes, he did.  He had a meeting, then court.  The day is awfully cold, dear.  Front moving in.  Wear your coat and take your muffler.”  She hustled off to the other room, calling after her.  “You should see if Olivia wants to walk with you.”

I am ten years old again instead of part of a capable Army Air Force crew, and my mother is as subtle as a tank.

“I might do that,” he said to her retreating back.  Never.

Mindful of her instructions and his own common sense, he grabbed a coat and then searched the hall closet for the muffler he used to wear in high school on cold days.  The knitted wrap was hanging right where it should be.  Mother magic again, he mused.

He walked down Oak street past Miss Sadie’s house and the Culleys’, past the Catholic Church.  The beauty shop had closed and so had the café.   A fire closed the kitchen right before he’d left for training.  Apparently, they had never opened again.  He turned the corner by the police department and noted the construction for the new hospital across the street. 

He walked further, kicking at the leaves.  He loved this town, but he’d felt a push to go out and see the world, to serve his country.  And so his father said go.  He paused by the courthouse and took a moment to decide whether to go in and visit right now.  His father’s secretary, Mrs. Justice, would gush over him and hand him another cup of coffee to warm up.  His father would take him up and down the hall to greet everyone.  He wasn’t in the mood to be fussed over.  He’d talk with his father at dinner and maybe visit tomorrow.  What he was in the mood for, he didn’t know.  Restlessness had struck yesterday afternoon.  Coming home was such a comfort, but it was also like putting on too-tight shoes.  He didn’t belong here anymore.

He wandered up and down all the streets until he found himself on Walnut in front of Carnahan’s Auto Repair.  His father’s car was serviced here. He’d been to this shop many times.  Olivia’s father owned the place.  He racked his brain for more information, but couldn’t come up with any.   The big door to the service area lifted and he watched a Buick back from the bay and move into a slot by the side of the building. 

A slim figure stepped from the car and at first Thomas thought it was a young man.   When the boy’s hat blew off his head in the morning breeze, shock raced through him.  Blonde hair tumbled down revealing the ‘young man’ was Olivia.  Worse still – she’d seem him.  Hesitantly, he crossed the street, not wanting to be rude.

“Good morning,” he called.

“Good morning.”  She tucked her hat, along with her hands, deep into the pockets of her work overalls.  She had grease on her cheek.  And all of a sudden the black under her fingernails at tea made sense.

“You work for your dad?”  He glanced at the shop and then back at her.  Evidently, he missed something because her eyes were flashing, her mouth was set in a mulish grimace, and her shoulders had straightened as if a fireplace poker had gotten shoved down her back.  Fascinated, he had an overpowering urge to kiss her.

“Yes, I work for my dad.”  She turned away and marched to the open doorway, preparing to shut the door.

“Wait.”  What he intended, he wasn’t sure, but he followed her.

“Livvy, shut the door.  You’re letting the heat out,” a man called.

“Yes, Daddy.”  She turned to stare at him, fire still in her eyes.

He cleared his throat.  “I didn’t mean anything by that, I was just surprised.”

Her shoulders slumped.  “Don’t tell my mother, please?”

He gave her a smile, hoping to see one in return.  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

A tall, thin man stepped to the open doorway. 

Thomas stuck out his hand.  “Thomas Applegate, sir.”

The man shook it.  “Stanley Carnahan.  I heard you were home.  Why don’t you come in and have some coffee.”

Conflicted, he was torn apart by two equally attractive ideas. 

He’d love to come in for coffee, watch Olivia work, and convince her to walk the streets with him.   Stealing  a kiss had merit, too.  But he also wasn’t staying here, had responsibilities to the Army Air Force and his bomber crew and frankly there was war coming.  The U.S. was going to be in the fray sooner rather than later and he didn’t want to leave a girl back home waiting for him.  His future was better, so much better if he didn’t. 

He had no explanation for what he said.  “That would be great, sir.”

He stepped into the brightly light shop and helped Olivia close the door.  Mr. Carnahan headed to coffee pot in the corner of the shop.  “How do you take your coffee, son?”

“Black, sir.”

“That’s easy.”  Stan poured the steaming brew into a small white mug and carried it to Thomas, handing the cup to him by the handle.  “I best be getting back to my paperwork.  It was nice meeting you.” 

“And you, sir.”

“Livvy, don’t forget Mr. Eisen’s oil change.”

“I won’t, Daddy.” 

Thomas schooled his face so that no surprise or judgment showed.  Didn’t want her mad at him again.  He took a sip of his coffee and new respect grew for Olivia’s father.  The brew was stout and bitter, like barracks coffee.  He took another careful gulp.

Olivia watched him swallow, a fact that made him supremely uncomfortable.  What was the allure of this woman?  She was thin, but shapely enough to make him wonder about her curves underneath those overalls.  She was blonde, and pert, with a neat bowed mouth.  Great for kissing, right?  His conscience screamed NO.  His body sent another message.

“The wind’s making it awfully cold to be out and about.”

The phrasing was so much like what his mother had said that he stepped back mentally and took a deep breath along with another sip of coffee.  “I needed the air.”

She led the way to a cherry red Ford truck and popped the hood like an expert.  He propped himself against the far wall and took another sip of the coffee, and watched her.

“You don’t have to drink my father’s coffee.  It is rather strong.”

“I like it.”

She stared at him for a minute, as if gauging his sincerity then shrugged and began to change the oil in the truck.  He had to stifle every instinct he had and make himself stay nonchalant against the wall.  She was quick and precise in her movements, telling him she’d done this many times before.  He still had the disconcerting urge to wrap her in silk and softness. 

A short time later, her father reappeared.

“I’m all done with the book work, Livvy.  Why don’t you let me finish this and you take Thomas for a walk over to the new town park and show him the fancy gazebo and the pond.”

She looked from her father to the car to Thomas.  “I’m almost done, Daddy.  I have to check the other fluids.”

He shooed her out from under the hood.  “I’ll finish up.  Go wash up and do as I say.”

Thomas read the reluctance in her face as she handed the wrench to her father.  Without saying a word, she walked to the bathroom.

Stan watched her until the door closed tight.  “Must seem strange to you that I let her work here.”

Thomas straightened from the wall and walked to the fender.  “None of my business, but she does seem to know what she’s doing.”

“She’s good.”  Stanley checked the rest of the connections and slammed the hood.  He put the wretch back in its proper place in the tool box.  “Your mama and hers seem to have a notion.” 

Thomas straightened.  “I know, sir, but I’m leaving.  No disrespect to our mothers’ intentions.”

“You best remember that, then.”  The bathroom door opened again.  Olivia had shed her coveralls and stood in a pair of black slacks that molded to her legs and a light blue sweater that did damn fine things to her figure.  Feelings, hot and heavy, jerked to attention.

“I’ll remember, sir.”  Thomas handed Stanley his coffee cup, praying he wasn’t lying.  “Good coffee, sir.”

The man grinned.  “Glad you liked it.”

Olivia ducked into the office and came back out with a heavy coat and a muffler much like his.  The similarities caught him for a minute, but he shrugged them away. 

He followed Olivia out the side door and into the street.  She walked several paces down the street, then around the corner before she turned to him.  “Let’s get one thing straight.  I know what our mothers are trying to do and I am not interested.”

Thomas watched the fire flare in her eyes, her cheeks flushed.  “Me, either,” he agreed.

She pulled back, studying his face for truth, and then pushed her hands into her pockets.  “Well, all right then.”  She started walking again.

He caught up and carefully matched his pace to hers.

“They just finished the park last summer.”

He didn’t tell her his mother faithfully forwarded the Echo Falls Herald to him and he’d followed the construction.  He wanted to hear her talk, listen to that melodic huskiness, and get himself into a whole heap of trouble.  Disgusted, he stopped her.  “I read about the park in the paper,” he admitted. 

She looked his face over from top to bottom, side to side, looking for what he didn’t know.  She never focused long on his eyes for him to get any connection with her, any sense of what she thought she’d see there.  Then she turned and walked down the street and left him standing, panting like a dog as he watched her hips sway underneath her coat.  To be fair, she didn’t know she had that affect on him.  He hurried to catch up.

“The kids love the park.  It’s become the place to go.”  She continued their conversation as if she hadn’t left him standing in the dust.  Her face was turning red from the light breeze.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go get some hot chocolate?”  He felt compelled to offer, she looked cold.

She looked down the street and then back at him.  “I need the air.” 

Then she smiled, her teasing sparkling across her face like a comet.

 His heart shifted and reformed into something he didn’t understand, but knew taking the leap to find out was imperative. 

“All right.  But we’re going for hot chocolate right after.”  He took her elbow again.

She glanced up at him, then looked away.  “All right,” she finally agreed.

They walked to the park and strolled from one end to the other, huddled in their coats against the cold, deep in getting acquainted conversation.  He wanted to put his arm around her and pull her to his side in the worst way.  He didn’t dare.

 

After a quick, brisk walk around the pond and through the gazebo, Thomas suggested the Corner Café for the promised hot chocolate.  Olivia’s answer was slow in coming, but finally she agreed. 

The normal lunch crowd had already dissipated and there were few customers in the place.  They were  able to get a corner booth.  Thomas ordered two hot chocolates, checking for Olivia’s approval.  When she nodded, the waitress took off, disappearing into the back.

He reached to help Olivia remove her coat and then did the same, settling into the bench.  “So, tell me how we fight this thing our mothers have planned.”

“We don’t,” Olivia answer, clasping her hands in front of her.  The serious set of her face made Thomas want to say anything to make her smile again.

“Not much of a strategy.”  He toyed with his napkin and silverware.

She cleared her throat and looked away.  “You’re leaving in . . . how many days?”

“Three weeks from yesterday.”  That set wrong in his gut and he shook off the feeling.  He wasn’t going to leave a girlfriend behind.  He wasn’t.  But gads, he wanted to touch her.  Her ivory, translucent skin, her pale pink lips – he wanted – touching and tasting was only the beginning.

The waitress returned with their hot chocolate and the stilted conversation between them died.  They’d managed to make small talk in the park, but here they both were coming up short for conversation topics.  And the lack annoyed him.  Girls did not make him tongue-tied.

“I didn’t mean to insult you.”  Olivia took a sip of hot chocolate and finally looked him in the eye.  Wariness and sadness lurked there, expressions he didn’t understand.  “You’re going away and I have no intention of being the girl left behind.”

Her statement so much mirrored his thinking, he should have been sighing in relief.  Instead her cold words got his back up.  “Don’t make that choice until you kiss me.”

She dropped back in her seat and flushed, her eyes darting to his mouth.  “That isn’t going to happen.”

“Want to bet?”

Her eyes changed – the soft blue turned hard and flinty.  She rose and pushed her arms through the sleeve of her coat.  “No need to be rude because a girl turns you down, Mr. Applegate.”

All right, so he shouldn’t have said that he wanted to kiss, but he was half out of his mind from looking at her.  He rose, too.  “I’ll see you home.”

“I don’t think so.”  Olivia swept by him, still buttoning her coat.

She’d taken four steps from him before he could throw bills on the table to cover the drinks and get his own arms in his sleeves.  Fortunately for him, the Echo Falls police chief pushed through the door, making Olivia stop in her tracks.  He was somber and ashen.

Their waitress rushed to his side. “Why Chief McKittrick what’s wrong?  Are you all right?” 

“Pearl Harbor has been bombed, everyone.  It was just on the radio.  The Japanese.   They’ve sunk some ships.  Lots of men dead.  For your own safety, you best close up and go home.”  Even though he delivered the news in hushed, calm tones, his words carried through the nearly empty restaurant and hung in the air, not being claimed by the disbelieving patrons.

“Pearl Harbor?” Olivia whispered to him.

“Hawaii,” he said, tormented by mixed feelings – grief for so many dead, but he’d trained and hoped for the U.S. to enter the war – which they would now.

Olivia took a shocked step back, bumping against him. 

“Are they sure?”  Thomas wrapped his arms around her, pulling her securely into his arms. 

He nodded.  “State Police confirmed.  President Roosevelt’s going to address everyone soon.  Go home, son, and take the girl with you.”

“I will, sir.”  Thomas shifted Olivia to his side and left the restaurant.  

She stopped on the curb.  “Why would they do that?”

Thomas shrugged.  “I don’t know, darlin’.  I’m sure we’ll find out when President Roosevelt gives his talk.”

She nodded, keeping pace with him, but not seeming to be aware she was.  He’d walk her home, make sure she was safe.  If he remembered correctly, she lived a couple blocks from the shop and not too much out of his way.  He was concentrating on the feel of her against him, of her warm presence, instead of on the news.  The U.S. would be in the war for sure now.  His leave would probably be revoked and he didn’t want to go.  Not yet.  Overwhelmed with the prospect of all that was in front of him, his shoulders slumped and he pulled Olivia even closer.  She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against him.

“It’s horrible isn’t it?  We should stop at the shop and make sure Daddy heard.”

“We can do that,” he said, even as reluctance to release her and turn her over to her family assailed him.  He was crazy.  Had plum lost his mind.

Stanley was backing his truck out from the garage.  The look of relief on his face made him glad they’d stopped, even if he didn’t want to let her go.  If her father thought anything of their arms wrapped around each other, he didn’t say anything.  “You heard?”

“Yes, sir,” he called.  “Police Chief caught us at the diner.”

“Climb in both of you.  I’ll give you a lift home, Thomas.”

“Thank you, sir.”  He helped Olivia into the truck and placed his arm around her shoulder as he sat beside her.  She didn’t toss him off, yell at him, or in any way object. 

Her father locked the garage and got back in the truck.  The drive to his parents’ house was made in quick fashion and before he wanted to be home, they were in the driveway. 

“You all right?”  Thomas whispered to Olivia, wanting to keep their words private as possible.  “I’ll call you later?”

She nodded to both questions and he had to be satisfied with that.  He opened his door then reached across to shake Mr. Carnahan’s hand.  “Thank you for the ride, sir.”

“You’re welcome, Thomas.  Thank you for staying with Livvy until she was safe.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

He squeezed Olivia’s shoulder – all he could do with an audience – and nearly drowned in her blue eyes.  He left the truck, trudging up the driveway to the house.  Cold didn’t register.  The horrible news sat on his chest like a ton of granite from the mine up near the reservoir.  Watching Livvy back out his driveway and drive away flayed the skin off his heart.  Duty and honor and responsibilities pricked at him, until he was feeling sore and defeated.  His father met him at the door and pulled him into a brief embrace.   They went inside together to listen with his mother to what President Roosevelt had to say.  He knew not what to pray for.

 

 

 Olivia mindlessly scrubbed the dinner plates and worried about Thomas having to leave.  The anxiety churning in her stomach didn’t make any sense because she truly didn’t want a boyfriend who’d be far away, doing God knows what, and possibly not coming home.  She wasn’t ready for any kind of commitment, let alone one complicated by war time.

“Olivia, have you started dishes?”  Her mother bustled into the room with the remaining plates from the dinner table.

“Yes, Mama.”  Barely.

She couldn’t force herself to move any faster, or to care if they were squeaky clean as her mother required. 

Abigail approached the sink and put her arm around Olivia, pulling her against her.  “I know President Roosevelt’s speech was upsetting, dear.  Especially with Thomas in the Air Corps.  He’ll be in the thick of it now, won’t he?  Why don’t you let me finish the dishes.”

Olivia stiffened, fearing her mother could read her mind, and then slumped.   “He’s going away, Mama.”

“I’m sure he’ll have to, but he’ll be back,” she consoled.

“You don’t know that.”  Olivia wiped her hands and stepped away to dry the few dishes she had washed.

“I know you have to hope for the best.  It’s the only way to survive,” her mother admonished, taking over the dishwashing duties.  “He seems to be interested, don’t you think?”

The question made Olivia flush hot and then chill, her emotions rioting.

When he’d wrapped his arms around her at the diner while they both absorbed the horrible truth of the chief’s news, she’d felt whole and safe and alive, connected to Thomas in ways that didn’t make sense.  And she’d wanted to turn in his arms and kiss him, make him hold her and never let go – which made absolutely no sense.  Those long minutes at the table where he announced he was going to kiss her had scared her to death and had made her run for the door. 

Anger flashed through her, erupting in her words.  “It doesn’t matter.  He’s leaving, going to fight in the War.  It’s what he’s been training for and he wants to go.”  Olivia tried to not shove the plates in the cupboard, but she didn’t succeed.  She turned and noted the quizzical look on her mother’s face.  Stifling a sigh, she bit her lip and started drying the silverware to avoid her mother’s expression.

“Olivia,” she said, quietly.  “You won’t find a finer man anywhere.  He’ll take care of you.”

She bit her lip harder to keep from replying.  I can take care of myself if you’ll just let me.  “He’s a nice man, Mama, but he’s going away and I’m not interested.”  She threw the towel on the counter and left the room, rapidly climbing the stairs and closing herself in her room before she cried.

What was wrong with her?  It had been an emotional day, to be sure.  So many men dead.  So many lives destroyed.  The Japanese thought they could attack this country and succeed.  They couldn’t.  Hawaii had held.  But the United States was in the war now.  And what would happen to Thomas?  Where would he end up? 

After he left, he would most likely forget about her.  Wouldn’t he?  People did not fall in love in two days.  She didn’t believe in that.  Did she?  They had to have time to become friends, to respect each other’s values and differences, to truly court one another. 

They had no time. 

So that would be that. 

Disappointment speared through her stealing her breath, tearing her eyes, but she had to be practical.  A relationship between her and Thomas was not meant to be.

 

 

December 8, 1941

As expected his leave had been revoked.  Thomas wadded the telegram up in his fist as he shut the door against the cold air rushing in.  He was to report back day after tomorrow. 

 And dammit, he was in love with Livvy and didn’t want to go.   The realization came on him fast and vicious, like a swift upper cut.   And the complications of that scared him to death.

They’d been out together once and their meandering walk in the park couldn’t even be considered a date, nor sharing tea and cookies with their mothers, for crying out loud. 

He’d considered for a moment that the passion came from sharing the devastating moment of history with her. 

But his gut tightened unbearably when he thought about leaving her.  He couldn’t stop thinking about her, dreaming about her.  He was dying to kiss her, hold her.  Heck, he’d be happy with being under the hood of a car with her, handing her tools and losing himself in her deep blue eyes. 

 And how could he expect Olivia to feel the same?   

He ran a finger under his collar and glanced at his parents.   His mother stood frozen in the doorway with a basket of fresh baked bread and his father sat expectantly at the dining room table.

“You have to leave?” his mother asked, her hands clutching the basket.

“Yes, Mother. ”  He absorbed the pain of her stricken look, then walked to her and hugged her.

“Where will they send you?” 

“I don’t know, Mother.  I’ll know more after I report.”

He released her and she shooed him to the table.  He sat next to his father and let his mother dish up his breakfast.

“We’re very proud of you, son,” his father said, and cleared his throat. 

“Thanks, Father.”  He looked at them both.  “I’ll be okay.”

His mother sniffed, but then firmed her lower lip.  “Let’s not talk about it now.  Breakfast is getting cold.”

He ate, but the need to see Olivia, to broach the subject of how he felt was riding him, making his palms sweat.  Gads!  Women didn’t do this to him.  Of course, he’d never been in love before, not the forever kind.

“When do you leave?”  his father asked.

“I’ll have to take the bus tomorrow. “

“We should have our Christmas celebration tonight, then, before you leave.”

Immersed in his thoughts, a moment passed before he understood what his mother said.  Christmas.  He’d forgotten.  His mood plummeted even further.  No Christmas at home as he’d planned. 

“If that’s the case, then I need to go.”  He stood, taking a final gulp of coffee and wiping his face with his napkin.  “Shopping to do.” 

His father handed him the keys to the car.  “Here.  I won’t be going anywhere today.”

“Thanks, Father.”

“You should go by and tell Olivia you’re leaving.”  Mother looked crushed that her plans weren’t going to have time to work.

“I will,” he promised, distracted.  Then he noted the way she perked up, and decided he didn’t really care what she thought, or if she’d figure out how he felt.  He was leaving for a damn long time and he was desperate to make sure that Olivia would be here when he got back – here for him.   Without conscious thought, he shrugged into his coat and went to the car, heading to the repair shop.  He was determined to do this right and that meant he had to talk to Olivia’s father.

One car sat in the bay when he arrived and none in the lot.  Hopefully that meant Mr. Carnahan would have a few minutes to talk in private and that Olivia wasn’t here.  This was not any place to have a serious discussion about their future.

He opened the side door and walked into the shop and there was Olivia standing at the coffee pot pouring cream into a mug.  He wasn’t prepared.  Hadn’t expected.  Had no words prepared.  The spit dried in his mouth.  She had grease on her cheek and her hair up under a cap and she made his heart ache.

She turned and spied him, paled, and for a second he thought he saw a matching ache to his own.  Her look didn’t help the dive bombers in his stomach, but gave him courage to walk across the cement floor to her side.

“Hello, Thomas.”

His name off her lips caressed the raw need churning inside, rioting his body to life.  He had to break the news to her – quick and over with was the only way.

“My leave’s been revoked.”

She gasped, paling further.  “Where will they send you?”

“I don’t know that yet.”  He sighed, then looked around the shop.  “I need to talk to you.  Can we go somewhere?”

She shook her head.  “I can’t leave.  Daddy had to go get parts.”

“Could we go out tonight? ”  Thomas cleared his throat, trying to stifle the hope that was churning in his belly.

“You mean a date?”  Her face tightened and he couldn’t for the life of him read her expression. 

He hesitated before answering her.  Hell yes, he wanted a date.  He wanted so much more, but Livvy looked ready to bolt.

“I mean I need to talk to you.  Please.”  He was ready to get on his knees and beg, but swallowed hard against the feeling and coaxed with his eyes.

“All right.”  The words couldn’t have been draw out any slower or with more reluctance.  His heart sank.

“I have my father’s car.  We could take a drive?”

When she nodded in agreement, Thomas felt a huge vise let go of his gut. 

“I have to finish the oil change on this car.”

“Can I watch?”

She swallowed hard and then nodded.  He leaned against the wall in the same spot he had two days ago and watched her, pleasure soothing his anxiety.   She proceeded with what she needed to do and pretended to ignore him. 

The shop door slammed and Thomas looked that direction.  Stan was back.  Thank God.  If he had to watch her sweet little behind wiggle in and out from under that car one more time he’d wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.  He blew out a quiet breath.

“Mr. Carnahan, sir.”  He shook her father’s hand.  “I was waiting to take Olivia for a drive, if that’s all right with you.”

Stanley was silent for a moment.  “What do you say, Shortcake?” he finally asked.

She was standing by the hood now, checking the oil.  “Yes, Daddy.  I won’t be long.  Mr. Pearson’s car is finished.”

He nodded.  “Park it outside and you better run on home after your drive.” 

“Yes, Daddy.”  She wiped her hands on a rag, making the oil stains worse.  “I’ll be right back.  I need to wash up first.”  She disappeared into the bathroom.  Now was his chance.

Stan walked into the office to file the paperwork.  Thomas waited a moment so it wouldn’t appear he was pouncing on the man.  He had to hurry, though.  He did not want Olivia to hear what they were talking about.  He wanted her to hear the words from him.  In the office, he watched Stan move behind the desk and make a notation on the bill.  Thomas shut the door.  Stan looked up, and then straightened.

“I know what I said the other day about leaving and not wanting to get tangled up, but things have changed for me.  I would like your permission to court Olivia.”

Stan straightened, gazing at him in concern.  “And how do you intend to do that?  You’re leaving.”

“Yes, sir.  My leave’s been revoked.  I’m not exactly sure how we’ll work this out at least until I talk to Olivia and see how she feels.”  Thomas stepped closer to the desk.

“Can’t say as I much like the fact that you aren’t going to be here to do a proper courting.  You sure?”

“Yes and I can’t say as I like that much either,” he admitted.  “But I have to do this.  I can’t bear the thought of losing her to someone else.  I love her.”

Stan gaped at him, and then settled back in his chair, dissecting his expression like he was diagnosing a cranky engine. 

The silence was killing him.  If her father said no, he wasn’t sure he could honor that and walk away.

Finally, Stanley ran a hand through his thinning hair and sighed.  “It’s going to take a special man to keep up with that girl.  She’s gonna need some room.  Her mama doesn’t understand that.”

“I’ve got no problem with giving her most anything she needs, sir.  I just want to love her the best way I know how.”  What he said was the God-fearing truth and his own words shook him, but the feeling solidified making him positive he was doing what was imperative for his future.

“You may have a fight on your hands, but good luck.  You have my blessings.  One word of advice.”

“Yes, sir?”

“She’s a stubborn thing.  Don’t quit.  She’ll think about what you are proposing for a good long time – make ya sweat.”

“Thank you, sir.  I promise I’ll be good to her.”

“That’s all I ask, son.”

He left the office and his only thought was he didn’t have a good long time—

In the shop, Livvy had her coat buttoned and was watching the two men with open curiosity.  He reached out a hand, desperate to touch her.  She hesitated, but then slid her fingers through his.  The fragile trust of that gave him hope, but didn’t settle his nerves one damn bit.

Outside, he helped her into the car and hurried to the other side, swallowing hard.  He didn’t want to drive around town, but he needed a spot where he could talk to her uninterrupted.  He headed the car out of town.  They drove in silence, Olivia giving him covert little glances.  He could see the questions, the nerves in her eyes.  Finally, he pulled into a small side road and stopped.  He looked out over the fields and realized they were near the Bradley’s pumpkin farm.

He let the engine run, the heat flowing to keep Olivia comfortable against the chill of the day. The words fumbled in his brain, refusing to come to his mouth.

“This is a pretty spot in the fall.”  She loosened her coat and leaned forward to gaze out the windshield.

He followed her gaze across the dead fields.

“Field after field bursting with oranges and greens, pumpkins everywhere.”  She smiled wistfully and he wanted to kiss her so bad he ached.

“I’d like to see that.  With you.”

“You’ll be gone.”

“For now, but I’ll be back.”  He hoped his eyes were conveying his sincerity, but he couldn’t be sure because Livvy shifted away, backing up against the door, tense and wary.

He took the plunge, had to know before he bungled this too bad.  “Olivia, will you wait for me?” 

“Why should I do that?”  Was that fear in her voice or disgust?

Nothing ventured.  Nothing gained.  “I’ m falling in love with you.”

A sharp cry escaped.  “You don’t even know me!”

“Doesn’t seem to be stopping the feeling – and I think I know enough.”

“Like what?” 

“I know you’re smart and pretty.  I know you’re a darned good mechanic and can work on my car any time you want to.  I know I want to look into those eyes for the rest of my life.  That’s all I need to know.”

“Thomas . . .” The question in her voice suggested he was insane.  He pressed on anyway.

“I know this is sudden.  But I don’t have time to court you properly right now.  Please wait.  I love you.  I want to marry you.” 

“Marry me?”  Olivia gasped, sheer panic guiding her tongue.  Confusion, hope, disbelief all mingled into a mucky mess in her throat.  “You’re going away.  We don’t even know each other, whether we’d be a good match or not.”

He sighed and was silent for a long moment.  “We’ll be a good match, Livvy,” he stated, his surety making her waver.

“You haven’t even kissed me!”  Panic flared.  Could she have really just blurted that out?

“I’d like to.”  He sat perfectly still, and she wasn’t sure whether he wanted permission or was waiting to get her off guard to pounce.

The feminine side of her was curious.  The practical side of her was more cautious.  They’d had so little time together.   They’d agreed they weren’t going to fall for their mothers’ matchmaking.  And she really didn’t know what she wanted except that the announcement he had to leave stabbed like a dagger.  “This won’t work.”

“It will if you love me, too.”  His deep, steady voice sent shivers down her spine. 

She straightened.  What could she say?  Did she love him?  Was this worry, this tenseness, this denial of the warmth inside her at his presence love?  Would the feelings last until the war was over?  What if she took a risk and he later walked away?  What guarantees were there that he wouldn’t change his mind as soon as he was out of sight. That she wouldn’t?  She had things she wanted to do.  Things her mother didn’t agree with.  Would Thomas as her husband agree or stop her?   Fear closed her throat.  She couldn’t risk.  She just couldn’t.

“I don’t.  Love you,” she said, firm in her practical nature, even if her romantic side was weeping with wanting to feel his lips against hers.

His face fell, his eyes blanked.

After a long moment, he reached for the gear shift and pulled out of their parking place and back on the highway.

“Thomas, I’m . . .”

He cut her off.  “You’ve said all you need to, Livvy.”

Before she could get her tumbling thoughts righted, he was stopping at the shop and opening her door.  She got out by habit, her mind occupied.

“Goodbye, Livvy,” he said, a flash of pain in his eyes.

Then he was gone.

 

 

  

Olivia stumbled back into the shop.  Her father looked at her, a question in his eye and she burst into tears.

He rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her.

“He loves me and wants to marry me,” she wailed.

“Is that so bad?”  Her father’s hug felt safe and secure, not inviting and confusing like Thomas’s.

“Yes.  No.  Yes.  Oh, Daddy!”  The tears fell and she couldn’t stop them.  He’d left.  She’d sent him away.  Being alone was what she wanted, right?  Then why did alone feel so wrong?

“What are you afraid of, Shortcake?  Do you love him?”

She chewed her lip, pondering the question, feeling an immense ache deep in her breast – like she’d lost something important.  Finally, she nodded.  She couldn’t answer.  Couldn’t say her fears out loud. 

He pulled back so he could look in her eyes.  “I know he’s going away, child, and it’ll be hard.  I reckon lots of people are going to have to adjust – live with letters and patience.  War ain’t gonna be for sissies.  Are you a sissy?”  His stern words made her wipe her tears.

“He doesn’t know me, Daddy.  Know who I am and what I want – my dreams and hopes.”

“Then tell him.  Spend those letters doing exactly that.  If you love him, don’t let anything stop you from having him.”

“But . . .”

“Seems to me the man’s showing a lot of courage taking on something like this – coulda walked away and ignored how he felt, never speaking to you.  Tells me he thinks you’re special enough to fight for.  You got grit girl, love enough to fight for what you want, too? Can you do that?”

She pulled out of his arms and wiped her tears.  “I don’t know, Daddy,” she whispered.

“Well, you best be figuring things out, Shortcake.  You don’t have much time.”

 

 

 December 9, 1941

“Thomas, wait!”  Olivia hurried down the sidewalk toward the bus.  The heavy clouds waited to drop snow, the cold breeze brushed against her bare ankles.  The cold had chased all the passengers onto the bus.   Thomas stood alone near the curb staring off into the distance, as if he didn’t want to board the bus.  She wished she could wear a dress for him, but the weather was so cold she was glad she’d chosen her best, black wool pants instead.

He turned and saw her coming.  He frowned, blanking the misery from his eyes.

He should frown.  She’d been a fool.  Regardless, his expression made her stomach jump and for some reason she couldn’t catch her breath.

She reached his side, suddenly hesitant. 

His blue eyes, the same ones that had sparked with a heat that gave her heart palpitations, were now flat and leery.  “What is it, Livvy?  I’ve got to board the bus.” 

She looked up to see several curious people peering out of the windows.  “Could we talk for a moment?  Around the corner?”

“I don’t have a lot of time.”

She knew that.  Dreaded his return to his unit and the distance returning there would put between them.   “Please, Thomas.”  She’d beg if need be, but certainly he wouldn’t make her.

He dropped his duffle bag into the cavern under the bus and spoke to the bus driver, then escorted her around the corner – wearing the same disinterested expression he’d worn a week ago when she had arrived at his mother’s for tea.  The man who had wanted to kiss her, for her to be there when he got home, seemed not to exist any more.

A snowflake drifted past her nose.  She looked up in wonder.  “It’s starting to snow.” 

Thomas looked up, too.  “I best be going then, so say what you have to say.”  He shifted, clasping and unclasping his hands, as if to warm them.

Her throat nearly closed, but she’d come this far and she wouldn’t back out now.  “I wanted to kiss you goodbye,” she whispered.

He stilled.  “Now?”  His voice filled with husky disbelief.

“I know my timing is bad.”  She clutched his arm.  “I’ve done a great deal of thinking.”

“Livvy, what . . .” He dropped his hands to his sides.  “You said you didn’t love me.”

In for a penny, in for a pound.  “I know.”  She sighed deeply, and lifted her hands to cradle his face, forcing him to look at her.  The naked longing and hurt there made her realize once again that this tough, strong man could be knocked to his knees – and she’d done hurt him with her carelessness.  She could fix the hurt by uttering three words.

“I love you.”  The words came in a rush, hung in the air battered by the cold, and then realization bloomed in his eyes, on his face.  Hope catapulted between them coupled with uncertainty and confusion.  Gads how she wished she’d accepted when he’d offered his love the first time.  She would not, could not lose him.  “I love you, Thomas.  Yes, I’ll wait.”

Then she did what her heart was telling her to do.  Lifting on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his.  They were cold, but firm, and warmed rapidly against hers. 

“Now she kisses me,” he muttered.  He reached for her then, easing her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her and lifting her off the ground.  His mouth claimed hers, as hers were claiming him. 

Every feeling crystallized, becoming clear and sharp.  Everything was right, as if the wretched mistake she’d made had never happened.  His tongue traced the edges of her lips.  A French kiss.  She’d read about that type of kiss, but had never . . .  She threw herself into the kiss with gusto.  What she lacked in technique, she more than made up in sheer love and enthusiasm, making Thomas chuckle.

“Darn woman,” he said between kisses.  “We could have had hours of this instead of minutes.  I’ll be gone for months.”  A groan came from deep inside as he sealed his lips to hers again. 

The snowflakes were forgotten.  The cold, too.  They were wrapped in each other, the wondrous feeling nurtured between them, growing stronger as a flame gains ground in a newly lit fire.

She pulled back, put her finger against his questing lips.  “I’ll wait.  I can wait.  I want to wait.  I’ll write.  We’ll talk.  We’ll make this work.  I promise.” 

“Liv. . .”  His mouth descended on hers again and this time she pulled him tighter against her.  Neither heard the clearing throat for several long minutes.

“Sorry, son.  But we’ve got to go or we’ll be stuck here for days.”  The snow had increased and was now coating the sidewalk.  Thomas seemed not to care.  He nodded at the bus driver.

“You will marry me, won’t you?”

“Yes, Thomas.  When you get home and the war is over, I’ll marry you.”

“You know, Liv, I don’t expect you to be anything but you.”  He lifted her chin so she could see the sincerity in his eyes.  “Follow your dreams.  As long as they include me, I’m fine with your choices.  Promise?”

She smiled and let her love for this man shine.  “I promise to love you and keep you in my heart for always.”

He crushed her to him.  “God, Olivia, I love you.”

“Son, we have to go.”  The bus driver interrupted again.

He kissed her again, desperately and reverently.  Then he set her from him and backed away.  “I’ll write.  Plan our wedding.”

Tears clouded her eyes, but she took a deep breath and stifled them.  He would not see her cry, would not know how dreadfully she missed him already and he wasn’t even on the bus yet.  He followed the bus driver into the bus and paused on the first step, turning back to her.  “I love you, Livvy – mine.”

Moisture clung to her eyelashes, whether tears or snowflakes she wasn’t sure.  She kissed both hands and blew them to him.   “Yours.”

The affirmation made him grin.  “Glad you came to your senses.  Your father told me you would.”

Olivia gasped in surprise and grinned.  “I guess we know who the real matchmaker was.”

Thomas’s laugh burrowed down inside her, silencing the tears.  She stood and watched until he found his seat, watched as he blew kisses at her and mouthed how much he loved her, stood mouthing the same back to him until the bus rolled out of sight.

 

Today, in the evening

Olivia sighed and shut her eyes, the memories of that first kiss still strong and real, giving her comfort.

Her tea was gone, the neighbors had turned out their lights, and still she sat . . . wrapped in the warmth of the blanket, soothed by the remembrances of her Thomas.

THE END 

[Copyright 2009.  Patti Ann Colt.  All rights reserved.  No reproduction or utilization of this work without permission.]