On Distant Shores (33 page)

“Presto! Presto!”
Lucia sat on the blanket, and her legs wiggled in front of her.

Georgie wrestled with a buckle on the braces. “Sweetie, I could work more
presto
if you held still-o.”

Beside her on the blanket, Hutch laughed and rolled up his trousers above his knees. “You heard her, Lucia. You have to obey. She’s an officer.”

“I don’t want to be an officer today. That’s why I wore my sundress.” Her face heated. Again. She wiggled off the first leg brace. Goodness, everything she said sounded forward.

“But you
are
an officer. And a fine one,” he said, his voice husky.

Oh, the expression on his face. The affection, the strength, the respect. She wanted to bottle it up to store in her musette bag so she could bask in it whenever she wanted.

He broke the gaze and shrugged off his shirt.

How was she supposed to concentrate with him walking around bare-chested? She frowned at the last leg brace and fumbled with the straps. “You don’t have to take off your stripes on my account.”

He chuckled and scratched his lower back. “I don’t mind the stripes. I mind the fabric. It’s so warm today. Feels great.”

Lucia wiggled her leg. “The water,
per favore
.”

“Si, signorina.”
Georgie slipped off the second brace. “Can you walk without the braces?”

“A little. I stronger.”

Hutch growled.

Georgie stared at him, but Lucia giggled.

He got to his feet, growled louder, and leaned over the child, hands raised. “The big hairy bear is going to steal Lucia and dump her in the ocean.”

She shrieked with laughter. He swung her up and ran down to the water. Sand flew behind his bare feet, and Lucia’s braids bounced every which way.

Georgie stood, brushed sand from her skirt, and followed. He would make a wonderful daddy. Each moment she loved him more. And he still loved her. She could see it in his eyes even if they hadn’t spoken the words.

On the drive from the hospital, they’d discussed their Bronze Star experiences and everything else that had happened in the last three months. But not their relationship. Not their feelings. They circled the topic from a wary distance.

At the waterline, the turquoise sea washed up onto creamy sand, and Hutch crouched next to Lucia, holding her by the waist while she stabbed at a spent wave with her toe. Georgie’s chest ached at the beauty of the scene, and even more so when Hutch glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her.

“Could you take my place with Lucia for a second?”

“Sure.” She stepped closer, the sand changing from dry and warm to moist and cool.

Dozens of pale scars covered his back. “Your back! Oh, Hutch!”

He craned his head over his shoulder. “I suppose it looks bad.”

“You said you took a little shrapnel.”

“I did.” He measured an inch between thumb and forefinger. “Each piece was little.”

“You poor thing.” She clasped her hands so she wouldn’t try to caress away those scars. “That must have hurt.”

He transferred Lucia’s hand to Georgie. “The itching now is worse than the pain then.”

“Well, don’t scratch. You’ll get infected.”

“You sound like Bergie.” He pulled a clear glass vial from his pocket and scooped up sand.

“What are you doing?” A gentle wave chilled her feet, and Lucia squealed.

He held up the vial for inspection as if it were one of his formulations. “I take samples from every landing, every shore. I think . . . yes, this is my favorite.”

Because of the sand or because of the company?

His gaze swept back to her, rich with meaning.

The breeze ruffled the skirt around her knees and blew curls into her face. Why now? She brushed them back so she wouldn’t break the connection.

“Beautiful,” he said, his eyes smoky, his voice throaty. “The water, the sky, Lucia . . . you.”

Her lips parted, and the words “I love you” floated in her mouth, waiting for the faintest puff of air to push them out. Instead, she smiled and turned to Lucia. “Let’s go out just a little bit farther, shall we?”

This time he’d have to say it first.

“I didn’t think she’d ever fall asleep,” Hutch whispered.

“Me, neither.” Georgie’s heart warmed at the silhouette of sleeping child against the starry sky.

Once Lucia grew accustomed to the water, she’d splashed
with glee, then built dozens of sand castles. After the picnic, she splashed and built some more.

Georgie sat on one hip with her feet tucked to the side, and she adjusted the damp hem of her dress. “The nuns will need to give her a thorough bath tomorrow.”

“No kidding.” Hutch adjusted dials on his telescope. He wore his shirt again but loose and unbuttoned.

Everything within her wanted to snuggle close, but she held back, and a tiny flame of annoyance lit inside. He hadn’t said one word about love, hadn’t so much as reached for her hand. Would the man ever speak his mind?

He pointed to the north. “I thought long and hard about which constellation to show you tonight.”

“Oh?” Her voice sounded crisp.

“Lyra, the lyre that belonged to Orpheus.” He traced a pattern with his finger. “See that bright star, low to the horizon? Then four stars below it in a diamond shape?”

Georgie scanned until she found the little constellation. “It’s pretty.”

Hutch dug his feet into the sand and rested his elbows on his knees. “Orpheus married a woman named Eurydice. On their wedding day, she was killed. He was heartbroken and followed her to the underworld. He played such beautiful music on his golden lyre that Hades and Persephone were persuaded to let him bring Eurydice back. On one condition. He had to lead her out, and he couldn’t look back at her until they were both up in the land of the living. As soon as his feet touched the upper world, he turned back, anxious to see if she was still behind him. She was. But she wasn’t up in the land of the living yet. She disappeared, right before his eyes, forever.”

“What a sad story.”

“Mm-hmm.” He faced her, his eyes luminous in the starlight. “I don’t want that to happen to me.”

“Oh . . .” Her sigh tingled over her lips.

He reached out, hesitated, and twined one of her curls around his finger. “I already lost the love of my life once. I couldn’t bear to lose you again.”

“Oh, Hutch.” The full realization of his love rippled into her soul. She shifted closer and leaned her shoulder against his.

He cupped his hand around the back of her head and pressed his lips to her forehead. “My Georgie. I love you so much. I was such a fool.”

“And I was a spoiled brat.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, his warmth and strength seeping through, stirring her emotions into a whirl.

“Nonsense.” He tipped up her head and gazed into her eyes. “Can you ever love me again?”

“I never stopped loving you. Not for one minute. You’ll never—you’ll never lose me again.”

Finally, finally, he dipped closer for a kiss.

But playfulness bubbled up inside. After making her wait so long, he could wait a moment himself. She turned away. “On the other hand, you’d make a striking constellation.”

“What?” A laugh burst out. “Okay, now you
are
being a brat.”

“See? Right there.” She rested her head on his shoulder and pointed to the sky. “Those two stars are your eyes, and I just want to live in them forever.”

“Do you?” His voice rumbled, and his embrace tightened.

He made it hard to concentrate, but she was determined to finish her piece. “Those two are your shoulders, which are mighty fine, by the way.”

“Is that right?” He eased up her chin, his fingers caressing her cheek, his gaze locked on her lips.

“That one.” Her finger waved somewhere near the sky. “That—that’s your—your mouth—”

A slight nod, and he lowered that mouth to hers in a kiss longer and sweeter and more passionate than ever before. The most savory, juicy steak of a kiss.

She pulled back to catch her breath, and a tiny laugh escaped. “You said you didn’t want steak.”

He laughed too, and he kissed her again. “You said you didn’t have any steak. But then you flopped one onto my plate. I’d be a fool to turn it down.”

“I’m glad you gave up your foolish ways.”

“Me too.” Hutch sighed and leaned his head against hers. “You know this will still have to be a secret.”

“I know.”

“It won’t change for the duration of the war. We can write, have a few private moments, but evenings like this—they won’t happen often, if at all.”

“That’s all right.” She squeezed his waist. “Most couples are separated now, aren’t they? At least we can see each other sometimes. And when the war is over . . .”

“Then we can make plans.” He settled a kiss above her ear. “Like where to live.”

Her eyes drifted shut at the joyful thought of sharing her life with him. “It’s too early to talk of such things, but I want you to know I could live anywhere. If I’m with you, I’ll love the big city.”

“I had another idea. Charlottesville needs pharmacists, right?”

“Well, yes.” She straightened up to look him in the eye.

He patted the poor abandoned telescope. “You can’t see the stars well in the city. I’ve always had to drive to the country to stargaze. I’d like to buy some land outside town—not too close to your family, mind you—and I could watch my stars, and Lucia could romp in the grass, and you could have a horse or two—”

“You’d do that for me?”

He grinned. “Are you kidding? It sounds like a dream.”

“It does.” It sounded like her lifelong dream of home and family and a horse of her own, but with this gentle, funny, steady man she adored, whose love would encourage her to grow.

Georgie brushed a kiss over his lips. “The sweetest dream I could imagine.”

Dear Reader,

Thank you for joining Hutch and Georgie on their journey. If you’d like to see interactive maps of Sicily and Italy with accompanying photographs, please visit my website at www.sarahsundin.com.

The 802nd Medical Air Evacuation Transport Squadron was a real unit, the first to fly a true air evacuation mission. Although all characters in the 802nd in this story are fictional, with the exception of the commanding officer, Maj. Frederick Guilford, their movements, locations, joys, and challenges are real.

Likewise, the 93rd Evacuation Hospital was real. Real-life people in this story include Col. Donald Currier, Major Etter, and Sergeant Paskun. The incident with General Patton did occur at the 93rd, one of two slapping incidents within a week. Patton’s “dialogue” in the novel is adapted from Colonel Currier’s account.

I am indebted to Dennis Worthen’s fine book,
Pharmacy in World War II
(New York: Pharmaceutical Products Press, 2004), for many of the details on the Pharmacy Corps and the state of the profession in the wartime military. While Hutch and his father are fictional, the frustrations they faced are real. The “any intelligent boy who can read a label” comment was spoken in Congressional hearings. On a sad note, Robert Knecht is listed among the pharmacists killed in action.
Mr. Knecht served as an enlisted pharmacist with the 95th Evacuation Hospital and was killed at Anzio on February 7, 1944. His service and death are poignantly described in Evelyn Monahan and Rosemary Neidel-Greenlee’s
And If I Perish: Frontline US Army Nurses in World War II
(New York: Anchor Books, 2003). He was secretly engaged to an Army nurse. His name is included in this story as a tribute to all pharmacists who served their country.

What a joy it was to write this book! But it couldn’t be done alone. Highest thanks go to the Lord, for giving me courage to face my fears and for smacking me upside the head whenever my goals veer toward obsession.

My family deserves much more than mere thanks. Living with a writer is strange. Thank you, Dave, Stephen, Anna, and Matthew for putting up with me and supporting me. And thank you, Stephen, for sharing your knowledge of astronomy and doing an “astro edit.”

I had the joy and honor of talking to Dorothy White Errair, president of the World War II Flight Nurse Association and an actual World War II flight nurse (807th MAETS). Her daughter, Melinda Errair Bruckman, is dedicated to collecting and preserving these amazing women’s stories. Please visit their beautiful website at www.legendsofflightnurses.org. If you have information about any of the flight nurses, they’d love to hear from you.

Thank you also to Warren Hower of Hower Research Associates, who located the entire detailed unit history of the 93rd Evacuation Hospital in the National Archives. A treasure trove!

Many thanks to Bruce H. Wolk, author of
Stars on My Wings
(unpublished), the story of Jewish-American airmen. Bruce let me read his interview with a C-47 radioman-navigator who ditched in the Pacific on a medical evacuation flight, an invaluable aid—and a harrowing account.

Thanks to my nephew, Adam Groeber, a reenactor in the 82nd Airborne WWII Living History Association, for practical information on C-47s.

Special thanks go to Sarah Hamaker, Carrie Fancett Pagels, Nanci Rubin, and Andrew Winch for answering my questions about Virginia.

I couldn’t have written this novel without my amazing critique partners, Judy Gann, Bonnie Leon, Ann Shorey, Marcy Weydemuller, and Linda Clare. I appreciate your keen eyes and your prayerful hearts.

I’m beyond blessed by my supportive church, small group, and women’s Bible study group. I love you guys!

I say it in every book, and I mean it in every book. My agent, Rachel Kent, and my editor, Vicki Crumpton, and the entire team at Revell Books—you are the best! I couldn’t have imagined a better group of people to work with. Your knowledge, professionalism, and talent are outstanding. Plus, you all make me smile.

And dear reader, I’m so thankful for you! Please visit my website at www.sarahsundin.com to leave a message, sign up for my quarterly newsletter, read about the history behind the story, and find tips on starting a book club. I look forward to hearing from you.