Battle Hymns (28 page)

“I’ve been saving up. I’ll come in a few weeks and
patch her up. Maybe then I’ll fly her down to D.C. and finally get
out of your hair.”

A loud grumble of thunder reminded them of the
impending storm.

“We should get her inside before the rain starts.”
Will turned to Charlotte and gestured to the plane. “Want to take a
ride?”

She nodded eagerly.

Will helped her climb onto the wing and then swept
her off her feet, his arm supporting her knees. “One of these days
I’ll take you flying with me.”

“You said that last time.”

He set her down into the cockpit. “This time I mean
it.”

Thirty-Five

T
he rain held off until
Charlotte and Will said good-bye to Leon and were safely inside a
taxi cab on the way to downtown Stamford. They returned to the
station and purchased tickets for the return trip. This time, they
splurged on a semi-private compartment.

Onboard the train, Charlotte nestled under Will’s
arm. Though the severe weather delayed their departure, she was in
no hurry to get home. This was the only place she wanted to be.

“Did it bring back any memories from the crash?”

Will traced small circles on her arm. “Not really. I
remember the mission and the lead up to the crash. After that,
nothing. My first memory is waking up on the medical ship, in pain
and seasick.”

“The trauma likely induced a coma. It’s no wonder you
can’t remember anything afterward. Maybe one day you’ll figure out
how you were rescued.”

To her surprise, Will chuckled. “You’re starting to
sound like a nurse.”

“Well I’d hope so, after being a nurses’ aide for so
long.”

The train whistled and rolled away from the
platform.

Charlotte ran her fingers through his hair. “I don’t
want to go home yet.”

“We have four whole hours before we get home.”

“At which point we’ll be separated for another week,”
she said. “I want to see you every day, not just on Sundays or the
few evenings you can leave early from work. I saw you more often
when you were in the hospital.”

He took her hand from his hair and kissed her inner
wrist. “But I couldn’t do this in the hospital.” His lips trailed
down her forearm to the skin inside her elbow.

She sighed. “True.”

“Spend the night with me again.”

She closed her eyes, her lips curving upward.
“Where?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.”

“If we’re not careful, you’ll scandalize me,” she
said, only half-joking. “My parents know a lot of people, and I’d
rather they not hear their unmarried daughter is rendezvousing with
her beau in various hotels all over town.”

“What if you were rendezvousing with your fiancé
instead?”

She sat up and turned so she could see him
better.

Will held her stare and squared his shoulders.
“Charlotte, I want to marry you.”

A grin spread across her face. She scooted closer to
him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him, lightly
and sweetly.

His eyes were bright and hopeful. “Does this mean you
accept?”

Her smile widened. “Of course it does.”

Will blew out a deep breath. “Brilliant. Well, I
wasn’t prepared to do this today . . . I’ll buy you
an engagement ring when we get back . . . whatever
you want.”

Charlotte shook her head. She’d worn Nick’s ring for
over a year and came to realize it was only a flashy symbol. Will’s
promises meant more than a piece of jewelry.

“Darling, all I want is to marry you. Fix your plane
first, and then we can look at wedding bands. I’ll wear one that
matches yours, and that’ll mean more to me than a diamond
ring.”

Whenever they decided to marry, Charlotte wouldn’t
have to go a single day without seeing him. They would laugh
together, sleep together, and wake together. And together, they
would heal. Will still had a ways to go before he fully recovered
from the war. But she knew the man he was and the man he had the
potential to become, and she vowed to love and stand by him every
step of the way.

Epilogue

Sunday, May 29, 1946

C
harlotte drove across the
Potomac River and down a street lined with elm trees. She turned
off the main thoroughfare, passed through black wrought iron gates,
and steered into a parking lot. To the far right, John Cartwright
stood beside his car, wearing his Army uniform. He smoked a
cigarette and stared at the white gravestones that gleamed in the
bright afternoon sunshine.

She pulled her car behind his and parked. He gave her
a brief wave, flicked the cigarette to the ground, and stubbed it
out with his shoe.

“Thanks for joining me,” he said after she stepped
out of the car. “I didn’t want to come alone, and Natalie’s busy
with the baby. I couldn’t think of anyone else.”

She offered him a small smile. “I’m glad you called.
My visit is long overdue.”

He gestured to the dirt pathway in front of them.
“Shall we?”

Charlotte nodded and strolled beside him. They passed
beneath the white, columned Sheridan Gate and entered into
Arlington National Cemetery.

“You didn’t want to visit tomorrow? I’m sure it’ll be
a big to-do, the first Memorial Day ceremony since the war
ended.”

John shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m in the
parade tomorrow.”

“Will and I will be at the parade. Do you think
Natalie will make it?”

“Probably not. How’s Will?” he asked.

“Good. He’s on a flight to Chicago. He’ll be home
tonight.” She rubbed the dainty gold wedding band with her thumb
and smiled. “You know, it’ll be our second wedding anniversary on
Friday. Can you believe it?”

After a nine-month engagement, Charlotte and Will
were married on the third of June 1944. Initially, the thought of a
long engagement was unappealing to Charlotte for many reasons, and
she toyed with eloping. But Will had wanted a proper ceremony. So
she continued rooming with Natalie until their college graduation
in late May and, during that time, planned the wedding with her
mother. Unable to procure silk for a new gown, Mrs. Donahue gave
Charlotte her conservative wedding dress from 1921, and a
seamstress altered it into a more contemporary style.

On their wedding day, Charlotte and Will were
surrounded by her family and their closest friends, and she was
thankful they hadn’t eloped. Natalie stood up for Charlotte, and
Frankie for Will. John, however, was absent from their nuptials.
He’d been in England, preparing for the D-Day invasions into
Normandy that occurred only days later.

“Congratulations,” John said as they continued their
walk through the cemetery. “Our first anniversary was last week. It
wasn’t much of a celebration. We should’ve gone out and gotten a
babysitter, but Natalie insists on nursing.”

Charlotte nodded. Though she had no personal
experience nursing a child, her training in pediatrics at Sibley
Memorial Hospital gave her intimate familiarity with the practice.
She and Will both wanted children. Will was especially impatient to
start their family. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to settle down
and become a mother until she finished her program with the Cadet
Nurse Corps.

After the war ended, the men came home, and women
were expected to return to full-time housewifery. The demand for
nurses diminished, and the Corps stopped admitting new students. A
free education in the field she loved was an once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity, and she didn’t want to jeopardize it. Only one year of
her program remained. They could wait until then for children.

Despite her own decisions regarding her career,
Charlotte knew Natalie didn’t regret leaving her teaching job to
stay home and care for her infant daughter. Natalie had taught for
one year after graduation at an all-girls school in Arlington.
Then, in May 1945, Germany surrendered. Because John had been in
combat since 1942, he was among the first soldiers from the
European front who were sent home. Mere days after his return,
Natalie and John were married at the courthouse, and a couple
months later, Natalie confided to Charlotte that she was
expecting.

Last year, Charlotte and Will socialized with them
regularly, going to movies, dinners, dances, and baseball games
together. Will and John weren’t the best of friends, but they had
developed a mutual respect for each other and got along most of the
time. Since little Beverly’s arrival in February, though, their
outings with the Cartwrights had become sporadic. Will’s hectic
work schedule didn’t help either.

Through their first year of marriage, Will continued
his work as an aircraft mechanic. He spent his time off flying
recreationally, logging flight hours, and studying for a commercial
pilot license. By the end of the war, he’d earned the necessary
credentials to become a commercial pilot. He beat the influx of
airmen from the military to the private sector and was now the
second officer on a flight crew with Pan American Airways. He loved
his job, and that was the only reason Charlotte didn’t mind him
working nonstandard hours.

Will assimilated effortlessly into Charlotte’s life
in Washington, D.C. He made friends with her girlfriends’ husbands
and his colleagues. Her parents loved him and accepted him into the
family, for which she was thankful, since he no longer had family
of his own. Will’s father died of a heart attack in January 1944
without reconciliation with his son. Though Will grieved for
several weeks, a burden seemed to lift from his shoulders. The
frequency of his nightmares also diminished. Will credited it to
his flying again, though Charlotte felt it was due to a combination
of the two events.

Regardless of why his nightmares ceased, Will was
like a new man by the time they married that summer. The wounds he
suffered when they first met, both physical and emotional, had
begun to heal, and though Charlotte hadn’t known it was possible,
she loved him more than ever.

“I think we’re here.” John squinted at the small,
paper map that directed them to Nick Adler’s resting place. They
stepped off the pathway and found his grave—a white marble
headstone jutting from the manicured lawn. It looked exactly as it
had in December 1942. Charlotte was ashamed she hadn’t visited
since the funeral.

“I should’ve brought flowers. It didn’t even cross my
mind.” She frowned.

John stood at attention, his hands behind his back.
He said nothing.

“You’ve been here before, right?”

He relaxed his posture and shook his head. “I didn’t
have the nerve.”

Neither Charlotte nor John had ever brought up the
conversation they had outside the dance hall during his leave. She
once asked Natalie whether he still blamed himself for Nick’s
death. Natalie had said she didn’t know. John never talked about
the war since his return, not even to his wife. Charlotte couldn’t
blame him, not after four years spent in North Africa, Italy,
England, France, Belgium, and Germany. It was no surprise he’d want
to put it behind him and move on with his life.

But try as they may, it was impossible for anyone to
forget the war. Life couldn’t return to what it had been five years
earlier. The conflict affected them all, not one soul left
untouched. They were, after all, years of sacrifice. John gave up
four years of his life and the comforts of home. Charlotte offered
her naivety, and Will his psychological stability. They were years
she would never forget, ones that would affect her for the rest of
her life.

Charlotte and John said not a word as they stood at
Nick’s grave, offering a silent salute to one of the many men who’d
sacrificed their lives to win the war. In the distance, the
American flag flew proudly at half-mast in front of Arlington
House, an unwavering symbol for which they had all fought.

###

Acknowledgments

I'd like to thank everyone who read bits and pieces
of
Battle Hymns
from its conception nearly five years ago. I
want to thank my cover designer, Jenny, for coming up with the most
beautiful cover when I had absolutely no idea what I wanted. But
most especially, I extend my eternal gratitude to Alexandra
Richland for reading through several drafts of this story without
complaint and answering all my questions regarding proper medical
care. I couldn't have done it without your help!

About Cara Langston

Cara Langston was raised in Atlanta, Georgia, and
currently lives in Dallas, Texas with her husband and dog. She is a
member of the Historical Novel Society.
Battle Hymns
is her
first novel.

Connect with Cara to chat and find updates on her
next novel,
The Glassmaker's Wife
, a historical romance set
in Roaring Twenties Chicago.

Website:
www.caralangston.com

Twitter:
www.twitter.com/caralangston

Facebook:
www.facebook.com/authorcaralangston

Pinterest:
www.pinterest.com/caralangston1