Tracie Peterson (34 page)

It was only after seeing him off to parts unknown that Clara really considered what she should do. In time, her answer came clear. The Red Cross was looking for women to sign up for overseas duty. The pay was considerably more than Clara was making at Synder’s, and the idea of busying herself with something that might well be helpful to the war efforts excited her. So for the promise of $150 a month and the experience of a lifetime, Clara signed on. It wasn’t until much later, however, and learning that Michael was stationed near to her own base of operation, that Clara realized just how intricately God had staged this part of her life. It was a miracle, pure and simple.

“
We should have married in the States
,” Michael had told her when they first found each other.

“
Yes
,” Clara had agreed. “
It would have saved us all the time and trouble of trying to figure out how to go about it over here in England
.” But in truth, Clara had been acting on a promise to her mother.

“
Don’t marry in haste
,” her mother had pleaded. “
Your father and
I eloped and I have always regretted not having a real wedding with a dress and veil and flowers
.” The longing in her mother’s voice had touched something deep inside Clara. For as far back as Clara could remember, her mother had shared her sorrow in not having at least a white wedding gown to marry in. It had set about a determination in Clara to have no less for her own wedding.

For weeks, Michael had worked feverishly with friends and acquaintances in order to receive all clearances and permission to marry. One problem after another presented itself, yet Michael was undaunted. Clara’s job, he had told her, was simply to be ready for the wedding the very minute HQ gave the word. The only trouble with this was Clara’s pride. She wanted a wedding gown and she felt driven to put Michael off until she had one.

But what if I wait too long? What if the dress isn’t that important? But it was to Mama
, she argued internally.
So what if you get your dress but have no groom? What if he dies in battle while you go running about looking for white satin?
She swallowed hard on the cake and nearly choked. Grabbing up the delicate bone china cup, she took a gulp of tea to wash down the cake.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Sylvia questioned, looking quite worried.

“Yes,” Clara managed to say, coughing lightly against the back of her hand. “Sorry for the interruption.”

Sylvia smiled. “I feel as though I should apologize to you. You appear quite exhausted. Perhaps you will feel more rested another time. I hope all of you young ladies will feel free to come calling. I am happy to lend a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. That’s what I’m here for.”

Clara smiled. “I’m sure we’ll appreciate that.”

Her companions nodded in agreement while Anna Nelson replied, “We couldn’t do our jobs without wonderful people like you.”

“I am happy to avail myself to the cause. The war is a harsh reality that we must all deal with in our own ways. I couldn’t sleep nights knowing I had offered nothing in return for all that had already been done for me.”

Clara pondered the older woman’s words and knew without a doubt she would like to better know Sylvia Clarke. The woman
seemed completely at ease with life around her, in spite of the fact that a war was going on very nearly in her front yard.

Back at her Red Cross quarters an hour later, Clara was delighted to find a note awaiting her. With her heart racing, she opened the letter and read the brief message.

I’ll be here at seven. Taking you for dinner and dancing.

Love, Michael

A squeal of delight brought the curious glances of several other women, but Clara didn’t care. Soon she would be with Michael. Nothing else mattered.

Clara thought there could be no better-looking man in all the world than her Michael. Dressed in his Class A uniform, he stood out even among his peers. At six foot two and one hundred eighty pounds, he was perfection. Clara waved from across the small entryway. She wished fervently that she might have something more alluring to wear. She had sent home most of her civilian clothes before leaving the U.S. for England, but there was always someone with something to borrow. The short notice, however, had left her with little to settle upon but her own Class A’s.

“Clar, you look wonderful,” Michael murmured as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

They were cautious not to give any overly open display of affection, but it was hard. All Clara really wanted to do was throw herself into Michael’s arms and kiss him, but of course that would never have been tolerated.

“So where are we off to?”

He grinned. “I’ve found the most remarkable pub. The food is incredible, given what they have to work with.” He helped her on with her coat. “Then just down the street there’s a marvelous club. Very top drawer,” he said, simulating a refined British accent.

Clara laughed and looped her arm through Michael’s. “And will Joe be joining us this evening?” Captain Joe Wittmer had become a regular companion for Michael and Clara. Stationed with Michael as one of the resident dentists, Joe was teased mercilessly for not being a “real” doctor.

“Joe’s meeting us at the club,” Michael said, maneuvering Clara through a crowd that had gathered around the front door of the ancient hotel. The Gatehouse Hotel served as billet for the Red Cross and had definitely seen better days.

“Who’s he bringing?”

They hurried outside and down the steps. “Watch out for the doodlebugs!” someone called from behind them. Doodlebugs were slang for the infamous V1 bombs that assaulted England on a regular basis.

They were halfway down the street before Michael paused and pulled Clara into the shadows of a narrow walkway. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, drawing her snugly into his arms. The damp, cold air did nothing to discourage their affections.

Clara wrapped her arms around Michael’s neck and relished the warmth of his lips against her own. How she loved this man! And then, just as quickly as he’d taken her aside, Michael was pulling Clara back down the street. His demeanor suddenly seemed more formal, almost stilted.

“I think we may be hearing something in the next day or two about our request to get married. If I get word to you, can you manage to get a day off for the wedding?”

“Michael, you know I haven’t found a dress yet. I’ve tried, but I’m not having much luck and I really don’t want to marry you in this uniform.”

“Why not? I’ll be marrying you in mine.”

“Yes, but you look wonderful in yours. I look like a drab little nun dressed in gray and black.”

“So wear your battle dress. The RAF blue is rather fetching, even if you are in pants,” he teased.

Clara knew he was put off by her desire for a wedding gown, but she wanted very much to help Michael see how she felt. Slowing her pace, she implored him to understand.

“Please, Michael, you know I want to marry you. You know how much I love you. I want our wedding to be special. I want it to be something more than a rush job without heart or feeling.”

“I have plenty of heart and feeling,” he told her quite seriously.

She reached up and gently touched his cheek with her gloved hand. “I know you do. That’s why I want the best for us. I’ll find a wedding gown, and whether we have the church or the flowers or anything else, I’ll marry you. Even if we have to get married in an airraid shelter, I’ll do it.”

He frowned and shrugged. “I might have a lead on some parachute
silk. I’m trying to trade for it.”

Clara felt her hope renew. “That’s wonderful. If you can get me the silk, I can make the dress. There’s even a sewing machine back at the hotel and I’ve already gotten permission to use it.”

Michael pulled her close and they began walking again. The streets were alive with other couples and hundreds of American GIs and English Tommies. There was a kind of desperation in their celebratory spirits. The soldiers and sailors, many of whom Clara had met while distributing the Red Cross’s good cheer, took serious stock of their leave. Everyone knew it might well be the last leave they were given for a good long time.

“You never answered me,” Clara said, trying to change the subject. “Who’s Joe bringing tonight?”

“I think he’s coming with Jeanine. He’s certainly been talking about her a lot lately.”

Clara knew her friend Jeanine Butler had been working double-time to get noticed by the rather skinny dentist. Clara didn’t know what she saw in the man. To her, Joe was rather mousy and boring, but Jeanine seemed to adore him.

“Jeanine thinks he’s the bees knees,” Clara replied, then added conspiratorially, “What does Joe think of Jeanine?”

Michael opened his mouth to answer and gave her a sidelong glance. Seeing that she was staring at him intently he shook his head. “Oh no, you don’t. You women are worse than the enemy in trying to weasel out secrets.”

“How can it be a secret?” Clara asked, frustrated by Michael’s sudden silence on the matter of her friend. “He’s obviously interested in her or he wouldn’t have asked her out.”

“Well, all I’ll say is that Joe thinks she looks like Greer Garson.”

Clara grinned, realizing it was fairly serious when a man equated a woman to a movie star. Especially when she knew how nuts Joe Wittmer was for Greer Garson.

“You can stop smiling like a Cheshire cat,” Michael said, glancing down. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

Clara nudged his ribs with her elbow. “You, Captain Shepherd, are either blind or completely senseless. Joe is batty for her and you know it.”

“Either way, it’s not my business,” Michael answered. “As for
your analogy, I must be without sense to let you keep putting me off simply in order for you to wear a fancy gown to our wedding.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy,” Clara said, hoping they wouldn’t argue the point. She knew Michael felt a sense of urgency in seeing them married. When he’d first proposed back in the States, neither of them felt there was any need to rush into marriage. Even after Pearl Harbor was bombed and America officially went to war, Clara and Michael felt confident the entire matter would be quickly resolved. But as the first heartbreaking months went by, and both realized that putting an end to the war would be no easy matter, Clara and Michael had grown more desperate. Here in England it was even worse. Buzz bomb attacks and the constant knowledge that Hitler’s troops were just across the Channel made for a sense of frantic discomfort. Maybe they didn’t have tomorrow. Maybe they had nothing but the moment.

Clara stopped and pulled Michael to a nearby bench. She didn’t want to see him so agitated with her. She sat down and waited for him to join her. “Please, darling,” she said, leaning close to take hold of his hands. “I don’t want to fuss and fight over this. If you absolutely put your foot down about it, we can be married the minute the papers come through. The dress is important to me, but not at the cost of your love.”

He looked at her oddly for a moment, then shook his head. He squeezed her hands and brought them to his lips. “Nothing could ever make me stop loving you,” he said softly. He kissed each hand, his warm breath touching the skin of her wrist where her gloves and coat sleeve had pulled away from each other. Clara shivered, but not from the cold.

“Look,” he continued, “I want this wedding to be special to you. You can’t have the wedding you deserve, so you should at least have the dress you desire. We’ll just keep working on it, but I have to warn you, rumor has it we might not be around much longer. If the papers come through, dress or no dress, there may not be a second chance before they ship me out.”

“I can’t bear to think of you going into combat,” Clara said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I couldn’t bear to lose you, Michael.”

The gravity of the moment was ruining their evening. Luckily Michael found the good sense to move the subject away from the war. “Look, I’m starving. This pub has a warm fire and good food. Let’s save this gloomy talk for later.”

Clara nodded as Michael stood, drawing her with him. He sensed her reluctance and smiled. “God has plans for us, Clar. We can’t worry over the details and little things like a war.”