A Distant Melody (2 page)
Walt reined in his excitement, checked in his duffel, and jammed his service cap down over the dumb curl that always flopped onto his forehead. Then he wandered back inside to a newsstand to study the magazines. If he bought
Time
, he’d still have enough money for tipping the porters and for a couple of Cokes on the trip.
A pretty blonde in a blue dress stood in line at the newsstand. Her gaze fixed on the silver wings on Walt’s chest and the gold second lieutenant’s bars on his shoulders, and a smile dimpled the corner of her mouth.
Walt’s throat constricted. Every limb froze in place. He couldn’t have spoken even if he’d had something to say, which he didn’t. That was why he was stuck kissing oranges.
Frank Kilpatrick, who could make friends with a doorknob, didn’t understand, but for Walt, women came in two varieties—those who were taken and those who weren’t. And those who weren’t taken scared him more than a stalled engine on takeoff.
The young woman’s gaze drifted to Walt’s face. One nostril flicked up, and she looked away. He knew what she’d seen— the chipmunk cheeks and the Novak nose like an upside-down kite. Yep, unattached women were different. They hunted, scrutinized, judged, and he never measured up.
Allie stepped outside. Steam swirled about, heavy with the smell of burnt oil, and the train chuffed out a beat that quickened her internal melody.
“All aboard!”
Allie turned to her parents. “Thank you for this trip. I can’t tell you how much this means—”
“We know,” Father said with a warm smile. “You’d better go if you want a seat. Now, you’re sure the Jamisons will meet you in Tracy for that train transfer?”
“Yes, and I have Betty’s number and the information on the transfer just in case.”
Mother adjusted the jeweled pin on Allie’s lapel. “Remember everything we told you—keep your baggage claim check safe, keep your belongings close, and watch out for servicemen. A uniform alone doesn’t make a gentleman.”
Father chuckled. “Mary, you’ll give Baxter nightmares about soldiers stealing his girl.”
“Never have to worry about that,” Baxter said.
Allie’s tune dropped into a minor key. If only his trust lay in her faithfulness rather than her unattractiveness.
Father engulfed her in a hug. “I’ll sure miss you, sweetheart, but have a wonderful time.”
In the arms of her lifelong defender, Allie felt her heart rise. Then she turned to Baxter. Surely, he’d be moved by the romance of the train station, the departure, and the couples in sweet embrace.
Baxter bounced a kiss off her cheek. “Go along now. Have fun.”
Her heart slumped down into its usual location. Just once to have a man look at her as if she were lovely and special. Just once.
Allie joined the crowd filing onto the train. At the top of the steps, she turned to wave but couldn’t see over the Marine behind her. She stepped into the car, coughed at the dense cigarette smoke, and made her way down the aisle, avoiding open seats next to soldiers. The train filled quickly.
“Excuse me, miss. Would you like to join us?” A dark-haired woman indicated the seat facing her, already occupied by two small children. The woman held a baby and sat beside an older boy. “If you don’t mind, that is. You’d be a bit cramped, and—”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.” Allie settled into the seat of muted red cloth edged with darker red leather.
“I’m tree.” The little girl to her right held up four plump fingers.
“Oh, what a big girl you are.”
“Humph.” The boy next to her thumped his foot against the wall of the train. “She can’t even read. I can.”
“Barely,” said the older boy across from Allie.
“That’s enough, children,” their mother said. “Don’t bother this nice young lady.”
“They’re no bother at all.” Allie noticed the woman’s illfitting red suit and felt self-conscious of her own elegant outfit. “And . . . and I could help with the children if you’d like.”
“I’d sure appreciate it.” She poked a bottle into the baby’s mouth. “So, where are you going?”
“I’m visiting my best friend in Antioch, up on the Sacramento River Delta. I can’t wait to see her again. Betty was my roommate at Scripps College over in Claremont. She’s getting married, and I’m in the wedding.” Allie cringed at her babbling. Why did she always do that when she was nervous?
“How nice. That’ll be fun for you.” She nudged the boy to her right. “Donnie, pick up your sister’s doll, would you? Lonnie, stop that thumping.”
Allie smiled. This mother didn’t seem to need any assistance.
Then her smile collapsed. A lady stood in the aisle of the packed train, and none of the servicemen offered her a seat. Perhaps they would if she were young and pretty, or a frail grandmother. But she was heavy, middle-aged, and colored. “Ma’am?” A man stood and motioned to his seat, a man in olive drab with an officer’s cap over black hair.
The lady gave him a big smile, sat down, and grasped his arm. “God bless you. I pray for all you boys in uniform, ask the Almighty to keep you safe. What’s your name, son?”
“Walter, ma’am, and thank you. I’d rather have prayers than a seat any day.” He tipped his cap and stepped forward, closer to Allie, with a smile on his full face.
A uniform might not make a gentleman, but kindness and good manners did. Allie savored this deep new note and the rich chord it produced.
A vise tightened around Walt’s throat.
Did she smile at him? That young lady with brown curls? Yeah, she did, and the vise cranked shut.
Then she turned striking green eyes to a boy and girl on the seat beside her. Oh, she was a mom. Taken. Breathing resumed.
The train jerked, lagged, and crept forward—Walt’s favorite part. Always, for one suspenseful moment, he thought it couldn’t be done. Then power kicked in, momentum built, and the train surged down the tracks.
A woman in a red suit said something to Green-Eyed Mom, who replied with a smile that grew as steadily as the train’s speed and erased her schoolmarm look. Yep, any joke her husband told would be well rewarded.
The boy next to Red-Suit Mom grinned at Walt with teeth too big for his face. “Are you a pilot, mister?”
“Donnie, mind your manners.”
“I don’t mind.” Walt smiled at the boy. “Sure, I’m a pilot.”
“Wow! Shot down any enemy planes?”
Walt chuckled. “Haven’t had the chance. Got my wings in April, and last week I finished four-engined bomber training in Albuquerque.”
“Oh!” Donnie bounced up in his seat. “Four engines— B-17 or B-24?”
The kid knew his planes. “B-17 Flying Fortress.”
“Oh yeah? Where are you headed?”
“Hmm. Promise you won’t tell? Loose lips sink ships, you know.” When the boy nodded, eyes wide, Walt leaned closer. “Wendover, Utah.”
The boy’s nose scrunched up, and the women laughed.
Walt joined them. “We’re still training. How about you, buddy? Where are you off to?”
“Fresno. We’re staying with my grandparents for the duration. Papa just got inducted,” he said with the nonchalant pride of a boy with a new word. “Someday I’m gonna be a fighter pilot.” He did a vrooming, ack-acking fighter imitation, echoed by the younger boy across from him. Donnie’s mother shushed them both.
Walt squatted next to the seat, and the boys fired questions faster than a machine gun. If only women liked planes. These ladies seemed interested, but they had sons, so they had to be.
The train crossed the High Desert, dotted with tumbleweeds, Joshua trees, and the small towns of Palmdale and Lancaster. When they passed Mojave, not far from Muroc Army Air Base, Walt stood to kick out kinks in his legs, and he felt the change in his pocket. “You kids want a Coke?”
“Yeah! Can I—” Donnie glanced at his mom. “
May
I go with him,
please
?”
“Yes, dear, and take Lonnie.”
The boy on the other seat hopped to the floor, and Walt led both boys down the aisle. They were brothers? Then Green-Eyed Mom only had the little girl.
Walt paid for the Cokes with his last free nickels. They wove back through the forest of uniforms to find Green-Eyed Mom alone—with Red-Suit Mom’s baby in her arms.
“Your turn to share with Connie,” Donnie said to his brother.
“Nuh-uh. ’Sides, she’s not here.”
The train lurched. Walt grabbed the seat back and looked at the young lady in confusion. Who was Connie? The little girl? But . . .
“Her mother took her to the ladies’ room. She let me hold little Bonnie. Isn’t she sweet?”
She wasn’t a mother at all. No ring on her left hand. He had to speak before paralysis set in. “Wait. Donnie, Lonnie, Connie . . .”
“And Bonnie,” she said, voice taut.
“We rhyme,” Lonnie said.
Green Eyes ducked her chin. “So you do.”
Walt let out a laugh. The young lady shot him a look— though too polite to laugh, she shared the joke. She wasn’t bad. No scrutinizing or judging, like a normal human being.
Red-Suit Mom returned with Connie on her hip. Right after they sat down, a tunnel snuffed out the sun. The kids squealed.
Walt took a bubbly swig of cola and squatted down again. “You’d better get used to tunnels. Eighteen through the Tehachapi Mountains. And the best part—in a few minutes we’ll be at the Tehachapi Loop. Track runs in a full circle. You’ll love it.”
The boys flattened their noses against the window. Soon the train broke out of another tunnel and entered the loop, spread around an oak-studded hill. Walt pointed out the features, glad he remembered his research for that civil engineering class.
After the descent into the Central Valley and the stop in Bakersfield, Walt unwrapped his sandwich. His mom would have a fit if she saw him eat in the passenger car, but with the number of dining cars reduced for the war, he had no choice. He took a bite and closed his eyes in satisfaction. Base food was always mushy or tough, but this chicken was cool, firm, and mixed with onion and celery and—apple?— yes, apple.
“Mama, I’m hungry,” Lonnie said. “When’s lunch?”
“At Grandma’s. Another hour or so.”
Walt’s sandwich didn’t taste so good with all those little eyes watching him.
“Can’t we buy something?” Donnie said.
“No, and quiet. We’ll eat in Fresno.” Her face matched her suit, and Walt suspected her purse was as empty as his wallet.
All he had left was an orange. One perfect orange. He pulled out the fruit, the same size as the hole in his stomach but not nearly as big as the holes in the children’s stomachs.
“An orange?” Walt drew his face into a grimace. “Would your kids like an orange?”
“Oh no, thank you.”
“No, really. Stayed at my friend’s house last night, and his wife packed my lunch. I can’t stand oranges.”
She accepted. Walt dug his thumbnail into the peel and released a mist of fragrant juice, all citrus and summer and sunshine. He passed out slices, and the children stopped whining. More than anything, Walt wanted to lick his fingers and get a hint of flavor, but he used his handkerchief instead.
When they reached Fresno, Walt returned little boy salutes and received thanks for Cokes, orange slices, and stories.
“Oh, miss,” Red-Suit Mom called over her shoulder to
Green Eyes. “Make sure to give that seat to this nice young man.”
“Oh. Oh yes. Of course.”
Walt looked around in desperation, but enlisted men filled the aisle—no women, none of his elders, and not one man who outranked him. Two sailors took Red-Suit Mom’s seat and settled in for a nap, so no one could even rescue him in conversation.
Walt had no choice. He sat. “Thanks.” He managed not to swallow his tongue.
“You’re welcome. I think you’ve stood long enough.” A quiver in her smile stirred something bold in his chest.
“Yeah. Yeah, I have.” The train pulled from the station with a burst of steam and passed a bunch of warehouses. What could he talk about? “So, enjoying the trip?”
“Oh yes. It’s nice to have a change of scenery.”
“Same here. I’ve been in the desert too long. Can’t wait to see grass again, even if it’s brown. I like winter best—real green.” Like her eyes, which were brighter up close, so bright he struggled to keep his airway open.
“So I’ve heard. I’ve never been up north before.”
“Really? Where are you from?”
“Riverside.”
Walt nodded. “Flew some training flights into March Field. Riverside’s a great town.”
“Thank you. I think it’s the most beautiful city in California.”
Could he tease her? One way to find out. “But you’ve never been up north.”
Long brown lashes lowered, but her smile rose. “True. I should reserve judgment, but even if I find a more beautiful city, Riverside will always be my favorite.”
Riverside—the name poked up a March Field memory. As an engineer, Walt always bugged the mechanics so he could learn the planes inside and out. One day he’d been banished to sit on a crate to watch. The crate hadn’t come far . . .
“Ball bearings,” he said with a grin. “Miller Ball Bearings, Riverside, California.”
She drew up her mouth so tight it almost disappeared, and she looked down at her book.