GI Brides (60 page)

“And Corrie does, too,” said George eagerly. “I guess you’ll find she’s saved now, too!”

Corliss nodded her head. “Yes,” she said, “one couldn’t stay there very long and not be. They all just live in an atmosphere of salvation. And it begins little by little to seem more and more real to you, till you want it for yourself.”

“Oh, I’m so glad!” said Dale. “So very, very glad!”

And then all three cousins knelt down and thanked God for His wonderful salvation.

D
ay after day Dale watched for more news, though her common sense told her that there might be a long delay. The first announcement had left her to suppose that David’s condition was more critical, and if he was still delirious of course he would not know what message had been sent her, nor have strength to frame a personal message to her. How long would she have to wait, she wondered? Of course until he could talk to the nurse or to some comrade, no one would know how to get in contact with her, except the War Department, and they had already done their duty in letting her know her man had been found and was doing as well as could be expected.

Night after night she went to bed praying, and morning after morning she arose with new hope in her heart that there might be some word that day. Hattie, too, was on the lookout every time the telephone rang or every time the doorbell sounded.

Dale laughed as she met her rushing to the front door in answer to a ring and called out, “He couldn’t be coming yet, Hattie. He’s away on the other side of the world somewhere, and he’s been too sick to even send a personal word, so there is no use in expecting him to come and ring the doorbell.”

“Aw, but Miss Dale. He might have flew, mightn’t he?”

“Well, not likely in the condition they gave me to understand he was in.”

“Aw well, you can’t always tell what may happen in wartimes,” said Hattie, nimbly excusing herself and grinning at her mistress.

Dale grinned back.

Three days later there came a telegram, brief and to the point but from David himself.

Dale sat down and laughed and cried for joy into that telegram. It told so much and yet so little. He must be better or he could not have worded it. It rejoiced with her and called her to rejoice with him that he had been saved from great peril through their Savior who had watched over them “all through the night.” It told all his love. He had not forgotten her, and she apparently was his first thought when he came back to life and self again.

She had much to tell the cousins when they came again, and they all rejoiced together that David was getting well. For there soon came letters from David’s nurse and from a comrade now and again, giving a few more details of his progress. His shoulder was healing nicely. His hands were getting stronger. The sprained wrists were so much better he would soon be able to write her a letter “under his own power” and not have to wait for a secretary to take dictation.

There was nothing about the hardships he had gone through, except one sentence:

The two eager young cousins who were so interested in her romance exulted in all these messages, which Dale let them read because she enjoyed having someone to talk them over with. And they just reveled in knowing what a wonderful man was coming back to their dear Dale someday.

But now brief letters in his own hand began to come more often, and Dale began to take new heart of hope that soon he might be coming home. He hinted now and then that there might be a chance, though the doctor had not yet told him his release was coming soon.

Of course like all soldiers and sailors who had been in combat, David wanted to go back and finish up the job, but when he suggested it, his doctors and nurses shook their heads. Definitely no. He had been through too hard a time, and his physical strength was not up to such things yet, perhaps never would be. He had earned his ribbons and his stars and other decorations, what else did he want?, they asked him, and so he let his heart relax and began to look forward to seeing his beloved once more. Oh, would she think the same of him? He asked himself that a thousand times a day, yet kept on praying and hoping.

But Dale began definitely to get ready for his homecoming.

She wanted the house to be in perfect order, though with Hattie’s willing help there wasn’t so much to be done in that way. The house was always in order, for Hattie took pride in keeping it so. But there were a few curtains to be washed, a few little things that needed mending, and it was happy work to be doing, in between the Red Cross work she was doing now and the occasional groups of children she supervised during part of each day while their mothers were away at war work. Some of Grandmother’s geraniums and pots of ivy needed trimming and coaxing into early bloom so the house might be bright and attractive when he came.

And often as she sat sewing or reading, only half her attention was on her work. She was remembering her beloved as he had been with her on that one long, beautiful day among the hemlocks out under God’s wide sky before he went away. And now was it really true that he was coming back to her?
He
had hoped that God would let him;
she
had hoped and prayed about it and given up her will about it again and again. But God had been so very gracious to save him from that awful fate alone on the sea. No, not alone, but alone with God on the sea.

Again and again precious thoughts like these went through her mind until her heart became a continual hymn of praise. And now she was so often watching for his coming, for he had at last told her it might be soon and unannounced. He might be brought home in a plane when there was opportunity. There were so many things that had to be considered in sending wounded soldiers home, so many men to be sent back and forth.

Quite often now, when Dale was alone sitting at her desk or under the light reading or resting in a comfortable chair, she would get up and go out on the porch, just to look down the road and see if anyone was walking up the street, just to look up to the night sky and imagine how he would be coming, like that great plane that sailed across the house above her at a certain time each night. And sometimes the moon would be rising—a lovely golden crescent, or later in the month, a great round silver orb in the wide deep blue of a sky punctuated here and there with white stars—and she would think,
What if he should come now, tonight, while I am standing here, and we could be here together watching this night. Sometime we will perhaps. Sometime he will be here and will not go away, but we shall be together, shall
belong
together. How great and wonderful that would be!

She went over all her pretty anticipations. How she would telephone Corliss and George to come home and meet him. Or wait—perhaps it would be better for David to take her down to the college. Ah, that was something that must wait until he came, to see how well he was and whether he was able to take trips like that.

Then she would chide herself for planning so far ahead when she was not even sure yet that he was to be allowed to come home at all at this time. He might even be considered well enough to be sent on another assignment, and there might be another long period of waiting and trusting ahead of her yet. Well, even so, the war must be won, and if their Lord had planned it that way, they must be content.

Then she would chide herself for making up so many possible disappointments when it was all in her Lord’s hands and she could perfectly trust that He would do His best for her and for David.

One night she came down to supper in a new dress, all bright and colorful with small knots of giddy little flowers scattered over it and outlined here and there with cords of scarlet among the bright knots of flowers. It was a pretty dress, and she wished he were there to see it. And then she got up and went out to take her nightly observation of the sky and see if there were any planes coming over the house, just to carry out her whimsical fantasy.

She had looked long into the face of that great moon and counted the stars around it and finally turned away. And then suddenly she heard a car. It was coming up their street. It came on quickly. It was the town taxi, and it was coming straight to her door! Could it be? Oh, it wasn’t Aunt Blanche coming back to take her cousins away from their beloved college, was it? For an instant, her heart stood still, but then she saw a tall man in uniform was getting out, paying the driver, picking up his bag from the curb where he had dropped it while he hunted out his change. He turned and looked toward the house, saw her standing there—her bright dress fluttering in the evening breeze, the moonlight on her beautiful hair—and then she knew him. It was not just her imagination. He was there in reality. She could hear the taxi that had brought him going down the street, turning onto the highway below. It was all real, and David had come home!

It was then she turned and flew down the steps and went to meet him, went straight into his arms, right there in the dusk of the evening with all the neighbors’ quiet little houses around her watching, holding their breath to tell it to the nightingales.

And David dropped his bag and folded her in his arms, laying his cheek against her own.

“Dale, my darling! Oh, I have you in my arms once more. God has answered my prayer and brought me back to you again!”

And Dale nestled into his arms just as she had been dreaming she would do and felt her heart overflowing with gladness and thanksgiving.

There was another watcher besides those neighboring houses. Hattie had heard the taxi, and Hattie had tiptoed softly into Grandma’s room and peeked out between the curtains. She caught the gleam of the streetlamp on the bright bars of the uniform, she saw the bag, she measured the stranger’s height and knew the lost had returned at last! And then Hattie went back to her room, got dressed in a jiffy, and went to brewing among her pots and pans until she produced a tray of delightful, tempting edibles, topped by cups of fragrant tea and little delectable frosted cakes with cherries on them. Little sandwiches and scrambled eggs such as no one but Hattie could make and season just right. And then quite innocently, she came sailing into the living room with her tray, as if a bell had sounded and she had been sent for.

“I thought you might like a little bite to eat, Miss Dale,” she said wistfully and then paused and eyed the tall uniformed man, liked his face, and heartily approved of him.

So Dale roused smiling, drew a little away from the strong arm that encircled her shoulders, and spoke: “Oh, thank you, Hattie, that was nice of you. David, this is Hattie. She’s a part of us, you know, and she had been helping me watch for you.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard of Hattie, and I’m glad to meet her at last!” said David as he got up from the couch where he had been sitting and took Hattie’s two work-hardened hands in his own big ones and gave them a warm pressure.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” said Hattie with her best bow. “And now you children set down an’ eat your ‘freshments ‘fore they get cold. I sure is glad you have come at last, Mr. Captain, and I hope they gets this war over now you’ve come back so you won’t have to go away no more.”

Laughing and happy, they sat down to the ample tray and ate as they had not eaten since that day on the mountaintop that seemed so very long ago. And yet now that David was here, was only the other day.

They had eaten it all, every crumb, and Hattie had taken the tray away and left them to a happy talk. Then quite suddenly there was the sound of a car, a clatter of young feet on the walk outside coming up the steps, and there came the cousins, barging in cheerfully. They paused an instant at the doorway, abashed; then George roused to the occasion. “Oh, excuse us, Dale. Are we interrupting? A fellow was coming up for the weekend and we got a chance to ride up with him in his car. We thought you wouldn’t mind. But gee, we didn’t know you had company. If we’re in the way, we’ll go back. But, say, isn’t this Cousin David? How are you, David? We’re glad you’ve come at last, and we hope you’ll like us. We like you a lot already just from your picture, you know.”

Then David Kenyon got to his feet again and took the two new cousins by the hand, one hand in each of his own.

“Well, I certainly like that,” he said genially. “That’s the nicest welcome you could have given me, and I sure am going to like you two just as much. I’ve been hearing all about you in letters, you know. And I’m so glad you both are saved and we can all be happy together!”

“There! See that?” said George to his wide-eyed sister. “I said he was all right, and he is, Corrie, and I guess we’ve got about the greatest family a fellow and a girl could have. How about it, Dale? Do you mind our coming home this first night he’s here?”

“Oh no, I’m glad you’ve come. I want you to know him right from the start.”

Then Hattie appeared in the doorway and summoned the younger ones.

“They all had a little supper,” she said, “but they done et it all up, so I guess you two better come out in the kitchen and tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll fix it up for you.”

So laughingly the two disappeared into the kitchen, and Hattie felt she had accomplished great things to leave the dear girl and her returned soldier alone together.

Promptly David’s arms went around Dale and drew her close to him, her head on his shoulder, his face against hers, where just their lips could touch.

“My darling!” David said and drew a long, deep breath of satisfaction. “Oh, it’s so good to be with you again!”

Once more his face went down to her and his lips met hers, and then he raised his head and looked into her eyes.

“How soon can we be married?” he asked her earnestly. “I want you for my own for always. I kept wishing all the time I was gone that we had had time to get married before I left. But of course I couldn’t help it that we were going so soon. But how soon, dearest?”