Blue Skies Tomorrow (44 page)

He looped his arm around her waist and led her in. “Edie!” he called, but Mrs. Novak was already gliding down the stairs, tightening the belt of her bathrobe. Allie and Esther peered down from the top of the stairs.

“Oh dear,” Helen said. “I didn’t mean to wake—”

“Allie, get the first aid kit,” Mrs. Novak said. “Esther, would you please take Jay-Jay, put him down in Ray’s room?”

Ray’s room. Helen collapsed onto the sofa.

“I’ll call the doctor,” Pastor Novak said.

“No. I’ll see him in the morning.”

“I trust her judgment,” George said.

Mrs. Novak knelt in front of Helen and took her hand. “The doctor’s daughter should know.”

Helen raised a grim smile. “Jim Carlisle’s wife should know.”

Mrs. Novak’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Did he . . . ?”

“All the time, and he blamed me. But I refuse to protect him any longer.” The strength and calmness of her own voice surprised her. She’d always thought confession would break her, but it freed her.

Pastor Novak sank into the wing chair and rested his forehead in his hands. “Like his dad. I should have known. I should have warned you. But you were in love, and Jim had never given me cause to worry. I had to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“I understand.” His pain and guilt proved what the Carlisles denied—that their actions affected anyone but themselves.

“When you moved in with the Carlisles, I should have said something. I didn’t think it was my place. I didn’t think—I thought you’d be fine. He never beat his children that I could tell.”

“Only his wife.”

He looked up with a haggard expression. “I’ve confronted him countless times over the years, but he tells me to mind my own business.”

Helen’s eyes drifted shut. Now she understood why the Carlisles hated the Novaks. Finally the feud had a source.

Allie returned with a first aid kit. “Let me clean that cheek. This may hurt.” She dabbed at the welt with a damp cloth.

Helen winced, but it didn’t hurt as much as the original blow.

Esther sat on Helen’s other side. “That boy sleeps like a rock.”

“It’s the only way I was able to escape. I sneaked out my window and into his, then out the front door.”

“Oh my goodness.” Allie dabbed stinging iodine on Helen’s cheek. “What will you do now?”

“I don’t know.” Helen’s mind fuzzed over. “He controls my money. I’m not allowed to leave town because of the custody case, but I can’t find a job because of the rumors. I don’t have anywhere . . .” Her throat clamped shut.

“Of course you do. You can stay here as long as you like.” Mrs. Novak gave her a soft-eyed smile, a smile like Ray’s.

“I—I can’t—”

“Nonsense. We’d love to have you. I once had a houseful of boys, and now I’ll have a houseful of girls.”

“Thank you,” Helen said with a choked sob. “But I still have to figure something out.”

“Not now.” Allie fixed a bandage over the welt. “Now you need to rest.”

“You can figure things out tomorrow,” Esther said. “Remember, we’re here for you.”

Pastor and Mrs. Novak, George, and Allie nodded. The Carlisles and the Llewellyns didn’t have the power to turn true friends against her. Gratitude swelled her throat shut.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Esther said.

She and Mrs. Novak helped Helen to her feet and up the stairs. “Would you be fine sharing a bed with Jay-Jay, or should I make up a little bed for him?”

“We can share.”

Mrs. Novak opened a door. “This was Ray’s room. I haven’t had the heart . . .”

The room still smelled like Ray, like books and grass and leather. An ache grew under the sore spot on Helen’s ribs, a fresh sense of loss, not only for herself but for his family.

After Mrs. Novak left, Helen changed into her nightgown and crawled under the covers. She wrapped her arms around her son and pulled him as close as her pain allowed.

On the far wall hung a watercolor, dim in the moonlight, a pastoral landscape with a broad open sky.

Ray used to gaze at the sky with a contemplative look. She missed him so—his soft eyes, his deep words, his passionate kisses.

Helen burrowed her face into the pillow. The smells of Ray and Jay-Jay mingled in her nose and in her memory.

The two men she loved most.

43

England

The blindfold came off. Ray blinked as his eyes adjusted.

Major Siegel led him down the aisle of a small courtroom. “Although you deserve summary execution, you’ll receive formal sentencing.”

Ray drew a long breath. Either way he’d be dead. How much would it hurt? How long would he be conscious of pain? He wouldn’t care once he was at Jesus’s feet, but he wanted to get over the hump with dignity.

A dozen men sat in the audience facing the judge, a thin-faced man with a skimpy gray mustache. His nameplate read Col. Elton Maxwell.

The colonel studied a paper. “Lt. Johannes Gottlieb, the court has reviewed your testimony. Do you have any additions or amendments?”

An officer stood by the judge’s side. “Oberleutnant Johannes—”

“Excuse me, sir,” Ray said. “I don’t need a translator.”

“Very well,” Colonel Maxwell said. “I repeat my question.”

“First of all, sir, my name is Capt. Raymond Novak,” he said, although he didn’t recognize the scrawny voice. “My testimony is complete and true.”

“Lieutenant Gottlieb,” the colonel said in a plodding voice. “You may wish to reconsider. This court has enough evidence to convict you of espionage and of involvement in the murder of Captain Novak.”

Ray’s mouth twitched. No, this court would be involved in the murder of Captain Novak.

Colonel Maxwell glared. “You laugh at this court?”

“No, sir. I apologize for smiling, but I’m a man at peace. ‘The body they may kill. God’s truth abideth still.’ ”

The judge’s gaze hopped to the audience then back to Ray. “ ‘A Mighty Fortress.’ Good German hymn.”

Everything condemned him. “Yes, sir. Written by Martin Luther.”

“Do you have anything to say to this court?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well. Have a seat while I review your paperwork.” He indicated a chair to his left.

Ray perched on the chair, his hands cuffed behind him, and he closed his eyes. The hymn marched through his head. He could see Mom playing the hymn on the church piano while Dad led the congregation and Ray shared a hymnal with his brothers.

Darkness threatened his peace and bowed his head. Ray would never see them again in this world. His life was finished. It felt incomplete. So much work remained. How many of the men in this courtroom knew Jesus?

Why not make the most of his final hours? Why not preach until the bullets silenced him? With renewed purpose, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. “ ‘God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for . . .’ ”

A dozen men sat in the audience, six U.S. Army Air Force officers and six civilians. He had seen only their backs as he entered the courtroom, but now he could see their faces.

Two of them he knew.

His vision, his mind tumbled around and around. “Jack? Walt?”

“Excuse me?” the judge said.

“My brothers.” Ray leaped to his feet and stumbled from disorientation. “Jack! Walt!”

“Guards, restrain the prisoner.”

Two MPs grabbed his arms, but Ray laughed, his head spinning into dizziness. It was a lineup, nothing but a lineup. His brothers stared at him, jaws dangling.

“You recognize me? I know I’ve changed, I’m skinny, my voice, but you see, don’t you?”

“Which men are you referring to?” the judge asked.

His life whirled back into existence, and Ray struggled to focus. “Second man from the right—no, left—second row. That’s Jack Novak. Third man from the left is Walt. They’re my brothers. My brothers.”

Walt’s face jerked into a smile, and he moved to stand up.

Jack swung an arm in front of Walt to stop him. He frowned at Ray. “It can’t be.”

“It is. It’s me, Jack.” Ray fixed his gaze on his younger brother as if his life depended on it, which it did.

“Remember the instructions,” the judge said. “Questions only your brother would know.”

Jack nodded, his expression softer. “Tell me what’s on the piano top at home.”

Ray laughed. Stupid tears dribbled down his cheeks, and he couldn’t stop them. It was over. The ordeal was over. He was going to live. “Three photographs—all three of our ugly mugs in uniform. Mom’s doilies. And the ink spot.”

“Tell me about the ink spot.” Jack blinked too many times.

Ray grinned, the first time in months, and it hurt. “I did it.”

Walt laughed, wiping his eyes. “Are you crazy? I did it.”

“Stop it. Stop lying, both of you,” Jack said with a deep laugh. “You know it was me.”

Major Siegel rose from his seat. “Let the court recognize the prisoner did not know the correct answer.”

Jack stood. “With all respect, Major, let the court recognize we’ve had this argument for over twenty years. That’s my brother. My brother. Would you get those blasted handcuffs off him?”

The judge nodded, and the guards freed Ray.

He lurched to his brothers, now standing in the aisle, and they locked in a mass hug, all laughing, all trying not to cry, all failing.

“You lunkhead.” Jack whapped Ray on the back of the head. “What do you mean getting shot down, letting us think you were dead?”

Ray whapped him back. “Who’s the lunkhead? Why didn’t you visit me in the hospital? They were about to execute me.”

Jack and Walt eased back and frowned. “Sorry,” Jack said. “We read your statement. It didn’t sound like you. I can’t believe you did that stuff.”

“Neither can I.”

“Wow.” Walt’s jaw dropped. “So that manual is real?”

“It got me here.”

“You flew a jet. From the manual.”

“And a training film.”

Jack and Walt stared at Ray, and then Jack erupted in a laugh. “Walt beat me to the altar, and you beat me in the adventure department. What’s this family coming to?”

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” The judge tapped Ray on the shoulder. “Captain Novak, a dozen intelligence goons want to interrogate you. I told them you boys need time together first. Would you like to sit in my chambers? I’ll have food brought in.”

“Food.” The word thumped into the hollow pit of Ray’s stomach. “Yes, please.”

The judge’s face twisted. “Sorry to put you through that, young man. Intelligence runs this show.”

“I understand.” Ray scanned the courtroom for Major Siegel, but he was no longer present. Not the type to apologize.

The judge led them into his office. “I’ll stand guard and I won’t let in a soul unless he bears food.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ray flopped into a wooden chair in front of the desk, exhausted. He was going to live. He was going home. He was going to eat. “How are Mom and Dad? Grandma and Grandpa?”

Walt sat on the metal desk, his face serious. “They’re . . . they’re grieving. They’re strong, you know, but it’s tough on them, on all of us. We thought you were dead, for heaven’s sake.”

“When they get this news, they’ll be as good as new.” Jack leaned back against the wall, ankles crossed.

Heaviness drifted down in Ray’s chest. Grief aged people irreversibly.

“The baby’s helped a bit.” Walt flipped open his wallet and pulled out a snapshot. “It’s a boy. Francis Raymond—Frankie. Frank for my friend who died, Raymond for—for you. But you’re not dead. Wow.”

Ray gazed at the little black-and-white face. His nephew. “Have you seen him?”

“No.” Walt’s voice deepened. “He’s two months old now. Smiling, Allie says.”

“You’ll go home soon. We all will,” Jack said. “War’s almost over in Germany. Any day now. We flew our last strategic mission April 16, our last tactical mission April 25. No targets left.”

Walt’s feet tapped against the desk. “Say, that jet’s legitimate. We’ll ship her over to Wright-Patterson Army Air Base in Ohio, study her.”

“What a swell plane.” Jack turned to Ray, a hundred questions in his eyes.

Before discussing planes, Ray had one more inquiry. “How’s Helen?”

“Helen? She took it hard, Allie said.” Walt paused, a blank look on his face. “Uh-oh.”

“Oh boy.” Jack groaned.

Ray sat forward. “What is it? What’s the matter with Helen?”

Walt’s face scrunched up. “Nothing’s the matter. It’s . . . well, she’s getting married.”

“Married?” Ray whispered.

“No, got married. It was Mom’s birthday, April 28. Two days ago.”

“Victor Llewellyn,” Jack said.

Married? Two days ago? To Vic? Ray felt his blood draining away, as if he’d been riddled with bullets by the firing squad after all.

For months a tiny dream had hovered on hummingbird wings, a dream that Ray would return and make Helen his wife.

The wings stilled. It was never meant to be.

44

Antioch
Friday, May 4, 1945

Helen stood by the newspaper rack at the corner of Third and G, where the
Ledger
’s headlines read “250,000 Nazis Give Up in North Reich” and “Two German Armies Only Troops Left to Oppose Allied Arms.”

Mrs. Kramer passed and stared at the bandage on Helen’s cheek. She gave her a shocked look and a flustered “Good morning,” and ducked inside Della’s Dress Shop.

Just what Helen had waited for. She steadied herself on the newspaper rack. She’d talked this over with the Novaks and the Anellos and had prayed about it. Now she had to do it. “Lord, give me courage.”

With her chin high, she entered the store. The bells on the door jangled.

Mrs. Carlisle smiled. “Good morn—Helen! Oh my.” She scurried to the back curtain. “James, Helen is here.”

Mr. Carlisle barged out with an expression of restrained alarm. “How good to see you. Come to the back. I have something to show you.”

“No, thank you.” She gave him a sweet smile. “I’ll stand by the window where I can be seen.” Pastor Novak had offered to come along for protection, but Helen declined. She needed to stand up for herself.

He came to her with a fake smile. “Where have you been? I’ve looked all over for you. I’ve been worried about you.”