The Soldier's Bride (7 page)

Leland took the sketch and admired the details the artist had rendered. “Yes, I’ve seen desks like this. They take quite a bit of time to build.”

“We are prepared to wait, and I will make payments as you build it.” Mr. Tanaka straightened his shoulders. He straightened his tie. He turned to Leland, and the straight line of his mouth edged up into the barest hint of a smile.

“Mr. Tanaka, is there a reason why you don’t want to purchase a ready-made desk from the furniture store?” Leland eyed the stack of wood near the door. “The materials alone for a desk this size will be costly.”

“Please, my friends call me Shunsaku,” he said. “It was my wife’s fondest treasure. It broke her heart when we returned from the relocation camp and found it had been stolen. We want the desk to be as close to the original as possible. Those available in the store are nowhere near the quality of her mother’s desk.”

“I’m sorry,” Leland said. “It isn’t fair—the way you were treated.” The music stopped again and Leland walked over and turned the crank. Emika clapped her hands when the music began.

“We do not dwell on the past. We are happy to be home again.” Shunsaku rocked back on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back. “Can you build this desk?”

Leland wet his lips and eyed the sketch again. “I can do it. But I’ve got a lot of orders ahead of you to finish first. You’ve done well with the details here.” He pointed at the drawing. “Let’s go over some of the measurements.”

Emika played with a mound of sawdust near the door and kept an eye on the dancing ballerina. Leland watched her for a moment while Shunsaku wrote a few notes about the scrollwork around the pigeonholes of the desk.

“She’s a sweet girl. Is she your only child?”

“We have a baby boy—almost six months old,” Shunsaku said.

He didn’t inquire about Leland’s family, and Leland guessed it was because he already knew. For a moment, Shunsaku appeared taller than Leland, stronger than the recovering drunk whose wife had left him. But then Leland looked again, noticed the kindness shining from Shunsaku’s face. Their pasts fell away, and the two men stood eye to eye.

“Let me see what prices I can find on wood,” Leland said. “It will be expensive, I’m afraid.”

“I am prepared to pay the fee. We live simply. My wife loves to write, and I love to make her happy.” Shunsaku opened his wallet and handed Leland a five-dollar bill. “I understand it will take many hours of your time and I am grateful.”

Leland looked at the bill but shook his head. “I won’t be able to start on the desk for at least two months, but I’ll do my best. I can’t take any payment now. Perhaps you can come by in a few weeks, bring your wife if you’d like and choose the stain for the wood.”

“Thank you, I will do that,” Shunsaku said. “Emika, we’re ready to go now.”

“The pretty ballerina is still dancing, Daddy.” She pointed and stood on her tiptoes again for a closer look at the music box.

“She will dance for you again next time, okay?” Leland said.

Emika smiled and took her father’s hand. With a wave, she walked out of the shop. Leland stood in the doorway watching the father and daughter walk down the street. Emika skipped and giggled as the wind blew dark strands of hair around her face.

Once they were out of sight, Leland’s cheeks trembled against his firm jawline. Wiping his nose with the sleeve of his flannel shirt, Leland let the door close and turned to face the music box. His chest constricted as he thought about Shunsaku’s words, “We do not dwell on the past.”

The gold embossed edge of the music box was covered with the fine grit of sawdust, and Leland knew this was no place for it, but he had his reasons. The side compartment opened noiselessly. Leland stared at the bent corner of the red velvet paper. It felt fuzzy under his fingertips like the back of one of those fat black caterpillars. He knew the words, but he looked anyway, studying the careful scripts of two different people who knew about loss. “Don’t die with me.” “Forgive yourself—allow God to forgive.”

“I’m doing better, Jessie—Rhonda. I’m doing better now.”

Ever the businessman, Frank took advantage of the hour and a half before Evelyn sang to have her work her regular duties as hostess. She stood in front of a flashy poster announcing “Tonight, our debut talent will be your lovely hostess Evelyn!”

Her cheeks grew warm from the gushing excitement of family and friends who had come to hear her sing. A flutter of anticipation stirred in her stomach, and Evelyn hoped she would be able to keep her voice from trembling with anxiety.

“LaRue, I need to go get ready in about twenty minutes. Can you tell Philip?”

“Sure, hon, we can’t wait to hear you.” She patted Evelyn’s arm as she sashayed by. “You’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” Evelyn murmured. She straightened the menus and made notes on the reservation list until she heard the squeaky hinge on the door. Her eyes crinkled with a smile when she saw Sterling shuffle in with his guitar case. He held out a rose.

“I wanted to wish the most beautiful lady good luck tonight.”

Evelyn took the rose and tucked it into the glass vial holding her pencils. “I might get stage fright and my accompanist will have to do a guitar solo,” she teased.

Sterling grinned. “Are you ready to practice?”

Before she could answer, a boisterous group of three men entered and approached. One with blond hair and wearing his dress uniform whistled when he saw her. “Hello, I thought the name of this place was just for fun, but looking at you I can see you’ve got to be my silver lining. What time do you get off?”

Evelyn smiled the way LaRue and Frank had instructed her to and replied, “Not till late. Do you have a reservation?”

The blond man jostled his buddies and chuckled. He lurched forward and grabbed Evelyn’s hand. “Late is good for me. What time can I meet you?”

She looked down at the tablet where her fine handwriting indicated the expected guests that night. A group of three for seven o’clock caught her eye. “Let me guess, you must be Harlan, Michael, and Blaine. Can I show you to your table?” She raised her head and caught the blond with a simmering gaze.

“I’m Harlan, and I’d like you to show me the time your shift ends here.” The blond had a lanky frame and he towered over her. His friends chuckled and crowded closer.

One of them leered at her. “Harlan is a favorite with the ladies. We’re planning to go dancing later, will you join us?”

“No, thank you,” she replied. “I have to get home and take care of my baby.”

Harlan pulled her left hand closer to his face. “No ring here. You must be a sweet little war widow.”

Sterling cleared his throat and Harlan turned to look at him with a sneer. Sterling glared at him. Evelyn pulled her hand from his grasp and tried to hide the tremor in her voice. “Ah, Mr. Dennison, your table isn’t far from these boys’.” She motioned to him. “If you’ll all follow me, I will seat you.”

Sterling pushed his way in front of the other men and followed close behind Evelyn. He caught up to her in the dining room, his face pinched with anger. Evelyn touched his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Don’t let them ruin tonight, okay?” She turned and motioned to a table. “Enjoy your meal, boys.”

Harlan opened his mouth to speak, but Evelyn turned and walked away before she could hear what he was saying.

“Do you put up with that kind of stuff often?” Sterling spoke through gritted teeth.

“It’s only happened a few times, and Frank is pretty good to help anyone who visits the bar too frequently to find their way out.”

“I don’t like the way he looked at you,” Sterling grumbled. “It’s not right.”

“Don’t worry over me—my mother does enough of that already.”

Sterling gazed over her shoulder at the three men seated at their table, already searching the room for more females to hassle. “Let’s go practice.”

Thirty minutes later, Evelyn walked onto the raised platform at the end of the lounge. The applause had just ended from the instrumental piece Sterling had performed, and adrenaline pulsed through her at the sound of expectant silence. She smiled at the group of diners and listened to the clatter of utensils on plates and ice clinking in glasses before Sterling began playing some introductory notes on his guitar.

She stepped closer to the microphone and licked her lips. The next part would be the hardest. Frank had asked her to tell about the song and how it came to be.

“They’ll love it even before they hear it when you tell them your husband, a graduate of our own air force base, inspired it,” he had told her. “They’ll love it anyway because it’s beautiful and so are you, but I want you to tell them.”

She had agreed reluctantly because she knew he had a point. Straightening her shoulders, she gripped the microphone and spoke softly at first to gauge the volume of her voice resounding through the room.

“My husband gave me a music box right after he graduated from Peterson Air Force Base a couple of years ago. He ended up in Germany, but he didn’t come back.” Evelyn paused when she heard a few sighs and murmurs. “The music box played a tune, one that I’m about to sing to you. It helped get me through some hard times. I wrote some lyrics, and my friend Sterling Dennison will accompany me. I call the song ‘My Angel.’”

She nodded and Sterling began playing. The lounge at the Silver Lining was charged with a quiet energy, ears perked to hear the first strains of the song from Evelyn Patterson.

She closed her eyes and sang.

There’s an angel on my shoulder.

There’s an angel by my side.

And he leads me and he guides me

through the trials in my life.

Evelyn opened her eyes and squinted to see where her mother and father sat. They had left Danny with a neighbor so they could be here for her debut. She continued.

There’s an angel by the river,

where you left me with good-bye.

There’s an angel, you’re that angel.

I can feel you in my heart.

Taking a breath, Evelyn swayed with the music as Sterling brought the tune to life. His fingers moved swiftly over the strings and Evelyn looked out at the crowd.

And I wonder as I wander

through the forest that I’ve made,

full of trees that grow with sorrow

on the steps that I must take.

But I cannot understand it,

life without my angel dear.

I’ll keep walking through the forest,

wishing that you were near.

The few bars before the chorus built on the sweet melody, and Evelyn did her best to ignore the pricking of tears at her eyes as the emotion of the song overtook her.

Because you’re my angel.

And I can feel it in my heart.

Oh my angel, you’re my angel.

Guide me back into your life.

Sterling played beautifully, and the music washed over the room as Evelyn sang the last lines.

I love you, my angel.

I still need you, my angel.

I’ll be waiting in this forest.

I’ll be waiting for you.

The applause startled Evelyn and she stepped back from the microphone. She noticed several tear-streaked faces in the audience and squeezed her hands together. Sterling stood and nodded toward her and the crowd. “That was perfect,” he whispered.

Frank walked up and put an arm around her shoulder. The buttons on his shirt strained against the bulk of his stomach, and when he motioned toward Evelyn and the audience, she was afraid the buttons would pop right off.

“Thank you, Evelyn. Perhaps we could ask Mrs. Patterson to sing for us again next week?” He winked at her when she shook her head. “Think about it,” he murmured. He lifted his hands toward the audience. “Thank you all for coming. We hope you enjoy the rest of the entertainment and try some of the banana cream pie we have on special for tonight.”

Evelyn’s legs felt weak as she walked to the back. It was over and it hadn’t been quite as bad as she thought it would be. Sterling waited for her just outside the employees’ room and grabbed her hand as soon as he saw her. “I hope you agreed to come back next week.”

She bit her lip. “I’m thinking about it.”

Sterling slung his guitar case over his shoulder and clasped her hand. “You were wonderful. They were mesmerized.” He continued to gush over the song as they walked to the front of the lounge. “Frank asked if we could perform for thirty minutes next time. I have a few pieces that I can sing with you. What do you think?”

“That might be fun,” Evelyn replied. She still didn’t feel like a performer, but the extra income would help her savings plan in a big way, and she could take it week by week.

Sterling squeezed her hand. “I think it’d be a great opportunity.”

Evelyn smiled when she saw her parents approaching. “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet Sterling Dennison. Sterling, these are my parents, Harold and Marie Gifford.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Sterling extended his hand. “You must be proud of your daughter.”

Harold chuckled. “She’s a lady of many talents. I’m glad to finally meet this musical mechanic we’ve heard so much about.”

Evelyn could see her scarlet cheeks in the reflection of the mirror behind her parents, and she pressed a hand against her face. “Sterling has quite a few talents of his own. Didn’t you think he played wonderfully?”

“Yes, that introductory piece you performed was marvelous.” Marie leaned against her husband and smiled at Sterling. “We’d like to invite you over for Sunday dinner.”

With a wide smile, Sterling said, “I’d like that very much.”

After wishing Sterling a good night, Evelyn walked the six blocks home with her parents. A new moon hid beside bright stars in the darkened sky, and Evelyn searched out the Big Dipper and located the twinkling lights of Orion’s Belt.