Love Finds You in Victory Heights, Washington (31 page)

Though appreciative for the award, another thankfulness whispered through her mind. One she didn’t expect—the realization that the award didn’t really matter.
Lord, I’m so grateful this honor doesn’t define me.
Six months ago she would’ve clung to it as absolution for her guilt—though temporary.
Now I know even the most hoity-toity award could never make me worthy of Your love. I’m
not
worthy, but You love me anyway.

“You’re welcome, Miss Madison. But it’s Boeing who wants to thank you.” Mr. Stafford nodded. “Right, Mr. Hawkins?”

“Yes, sir.” Mr. Hawkins’ eyes peered out from beneath his long forehead. “There is that other thing,” the Bullhorn’s voice rasped.

Mr. Stafford clapped. “Yes, well, this is where you come in, Mr. Davenport. We’re hoping the Rosie the Riveter articles will also help with recruitment and promotion of the plant. We want to take advantage of the publicity.” He smiled expectantly at Rosalie.

Rosalie’s stomach lunged.

“You’ll be our proverbial poster girl, Miss Madison.” Mr. Stafford’s smile deepened, and Rosalie’s nausea did too. “Our publicist here, Mr. Burrows, will work with you—”

Kenny edged forward.

“What do you have in mind, Mr. Burrows?” Kenny asked.

“Ho daddy! I’ll tell you what we’ve got up our sleeves.” The Edward G. Robertson look-alike next to Mr. Stafford shoved up his white shirtsleeves as if to illustrate. “I’m talkin’ radio, print ads, rallies, and even—” His beady eyes twitched side to side, then back to Rosalie. “A short film,” he continued, slapping the table, “to be shown across these United States.” His hand swept across the table as if he expected applause to follow.

Rosalie felt cold all over. Not only was she upset by what they were asking, she was horrified that Kenny was going along with it.

She frowned at Kenny, jutting out her lower lip, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“We’ll take your articles nationwide,” Mr. Burrows continued. “Your stories will be read all over the States.”

Kenny’s nod reminded her that she
decided
to let him write the articles, knowing they would reach many people. She just had no idea it was more than she thought—and this was just the start. A
newsreel? Really?

“You’re a real asset to Boeing, Miss Madison.” Mr. Stafford’s bulky eyebrows then aimed at Kenny. “And we’re expecting you to write a stellar article.”

“I will, sir.”

All sets of eyes again turned to her, excitement filling their faces.

“Miss Madison,” Mr. Stafford said, “do you have anything to say?”

“Thank you, Mr. Stafford,” Rosalie managed to choke out, fingering the silver pin. “I’ll, uh, be happy to do whatever I can to help.”

Kenny let out a breath as his black shoe stepped off the stairs onto the plant floor and into the rumbling noise. Then, glancing at Rosalie’s forlorn face, he sucked his breath back in. “I’m sorry, doll,” he said as they strode back toward the meeting room on the way to the fuselages. “I know a bit of attention is not what you want.”

“A
bit
of attention? Didn’t you hear them? It’s more like an oceanful of attention.”

Kenny tipped his head with sympathy. “But you’re going to receive a nifty award. That’s kind of hipper dipper, isn’t it?”

Rosalie’s eyes closed, and she heaved in a mighty breath. “Yes, it is. I’m very grateful to receive such an honor. I’ll show up at the B-17 rally next week to receive it in front of
all
the thousands of Boeing workers.” She opened her eyes wide. “I’ll do all the stuff they tell me to do, but—”

“C’mon.” Kenny stretched out his palm. “Don’t you think it’ll be a little fun?”

They reached the entrance to the meeting room.

Rosalie paused and faced him. “I’m going to try my best to enjoy it.” Her gaze softened. “And as long as you’re with me, I
know
I’ll be okay. But”—Rosalie’s lips closed, her chest rose and fell—“Vic.”

Kenny felt his heart fall as she said the guy’s name. Her eyes studied his, and he knew that if he didn’t play this right, her attempts to be positive would quickly sink. He’d worry about that later. For now he needed to keep her emotions moving in a positive direction.

“You’re worried about that?” Kenny waved a hand in the air. “I’ll listen to whatever you want to share with me about Vic, or any of your previous boyfriends—John, Art, Sylvester.”

“There weren’t
that
many.”

“Glad to hear it, but even if there was, doll, you’re my girl now.” He offered a toothy grin, hoping she’d buy it.

A tiny gasp slipped from Rosalie’s lips, and Kenny relished the pink that flushed her face. “Oh, I’m your girl, am I?”

“Of course, and if I could, I’d plant a big ol’ kiss on those smackers of yours right now, just to show you.”

Rosalie’s face turned as red as the stripes on the flag hanging across the wall.

“C’mon, let’s have lunch. It’s gotta be time.” He started walking.

Rosalie skipped to catch up. “What makes you think I’d want to have lunch with a cad like you? Seriously though,
darling
, I don’t think I should take a lunch today. I’ve been off the line all morning. You go grab a bite. The Igloo has a stand inside the canteen. Then watch Lanie and Nick, and I’ll find you later. Maybe I can convince Mr. Bixby to let you watch me build the plane that will wipe out the Nazis.”

“And the Japanese.”

“Of course.”

“Okay, but first I need to ask you something.” Kenny paused, turning to her.

Rosalie folded her arms. “What?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking that it’s been too long since I’ve held you in my arms.”

Rosalie’s jaw dropped. “You never…we never…”

He slapped his leg. “Ha, got you. All I’m asking, doll, is if you’d like to go dancing with me tonight after our shift? I was thinking we could go to Playland. Ride a few rides. Do a little jitterbuggin’ in their dance hall.” He bopped a rock step. “I’ve won a few dance contests there myself.”

Rosalie’s eyes brightened, but then she frowned. “Hmm, should I be stepping out with a scoundrel like you?”

“What? I’m not a scoundrel. C’mon, doll. Say yes.”

Rosalie’s head tilted back as she laughed. “Of course. I’d love to.”

“Great!” Kenny said as he be-bopped to the meeting room.

“Cotton candy! Thank you.” Rosalie’s finger brushed against Kenny’s as she reached out and received his offer. Kenny settled on the bench of the picnic table next to her, his presence blunting the chilliness that crept up Rosalie’s arms. After Rosalie’s shift ended, Kenny had borrowed Miss Tilly’s Model A and driven Rosalie to Playland, Seattle’s amusement park where Fun for All reigned in the boondocks of the city.

The sky’s smeared shades, nearly matching the cotton candy’s pink hue, now drizzled away into a deep navy. Only the horizon still whispered with the muted light of the earlier colorfest.

Breaking off a bit of the grainy delight, Rosalie plopped it in her mouth, then aimed the puff-topped cone toward Kenny as her morsel dissolved on her tongue.

“How many rides do you think we hit?” Kenny’s eyes scanned the park’s nightline, which arced around a manmade lake.

“Well, you protected me from plunging to my death on that thing.” Rosalie pointed to the rotating Ferris wheel, its lights waltzing on the glassy lake waters. Her head sloped back as she eyed the top. “It’s really high.”

Kenny’s chest puffed out. “Happy to be of service, miss. And I must say, you were very brave on the Dipper. It’s even higher than the Ferris wheel.”

“Ah, but it goes so fast over the drops and rises I didn’t have time to be afraid.”

“Not scared, huh?” Kenny’s eyebrows crumpled. “You let out a pretty good howl on that wicked turn.”

“Screaming’s a hoot. It’s gobs more fun if you scream. You should try it,” she said. “But what I didn’t like was that Laff Factory. Walking in through the clown’s mouth gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“You looked cute warped in those mirrors.”

Rosalie batted her eyelashes. “Gee, thanks. I think the only ride we missed was the Shoot the Chutes. See.” She pointed to a ride where pretend logs carried daring patrons down a watery hill, landing with a splash. No logs seemed to be moving at the moment, though. “I guess it’s closed. If it opens, we should. It’s my favorite.”

Rosalie breathed in the blended scents of popcorn, hot dogs, cotton candy, and all the other amusement park treats. A coming-home feeling embraced her. “Did I tell you I worked here in high school? But only during the three weeks when I came to stay at my grandma’s place.”

“Whata ya know? I worked on my parents’ farm, lugging rocks.”

Rosalie chuckled. “I doubt that.”

“I’m on the level. But the rock lugging—that was only when I needed a punishment. It was effective.”

“I can’t imagine you ever needing a punishment.” She tossed him a sarcastic grin.

Kenny’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, I was a handful. Always up to mischief.” He reached his arm behind her. Rosalie’s shoulder blades quivered when his bicep brushed against them. His warm hand curled around her cool shoulder, and she leaned next to his firm chest.

Another bite of cotton candy melted in Rosalie’s mouth.

“I’m glad I’m here.” Rosalie caressed his hand on her shoulder. “With you.” Over the last few hours their conversation had wound down paths as they each shared about their lives. Often their paths merged. They both liked swimming in lakes, riding bikes on country roads, and, of course, a rip-roaring political discussion.

But sometimes the roads veered apart. Kenny’d traveled to Europe before the war. He majored in literature at the University of Washington. He’d grown up in a Christian family.

As knowledge of him filtered in, Rosalie evaluated each bit. Would all these pieces fit together to reveal a man she could care about? She nudged closer, her cheek touching his musk-scented shirt. Someone she could love?

Rosalie exhaled.
Love
. Her very essence longed for that. She wanted to go for the ride, racing down it—getting caught up in it—like an avalanche on Mt. Rainier.

Vic had offered his love, yet she hadn’t opened it, embraced it. This was different. Kenny was different.

Her attraction to him vastly surpassed anything she’d ever felt for Vic. Her draw wasn’t just to his handsome form, but to his honest, kind, godly character. Their conversations—fun or serious, full of friendly disagreement—never lacked vitality.

Rosalie’s chest mounded as she hauled in a breath.
Is this what I’ve always longed for, Lord?
She swallowed.
Am I falling in love?

But she still needed to tell him about Vic.

Rosalie moved from the warmth of Kenny’s embrace and scooted back. She crossed her legs and faced him. “I need to tell you—”

Kenny’s strong hands cupped over hers. “About Vic?”

“Yeah. That, and everything.” Rosalie slowly blinked her eyes closed. When she looked back up, Kenny’s accepting gaze swelled her attraction to him, solidifying her decision to risk spilling out her heart. If he rejected her now, she could accept it, but many more romantic moments like tonight and a rejection would leave her heart in splinters.

“You don’t have to.” He touched her face with the back of his hand. “But if you want to, I’ll listen.”

And as the throngs of people revolved around them like the carousel, Rosalie unbolted her heart, releasing all its messiness. Kenny didn’t probe or push, just waited as she exposed everything about Vic, how she betrayed him, deceived her friends, the nasty details about her father.

But just like he promised at the plant, Kenny didn’t condemn or judge. In fact, he held her hand as she spoke, thumbed away a tear, embraced her.

A breath, like water over a brittle rose, smoothed over Rosalie’s heart as Kenny’s smile enveloped her. She’d known he promised to accept her. When rational thought won over her wispy emotions, she grasped that his commitment to the unconditional giver of love would prevent him from judging her, rejecting her.

But she hadn’t believed it. Not really. Her quiet fears rasped that if he understood the mire of her past, saw every part of it in its raw ugliness, he’d turn his face from her. The loving gaze in his eyes would harden. The admiring grin would straighten. His gentle hands would pull back. And she’d be alone in her self-made morass, blaming herself.