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My heart sank. I flashed back to all the times he’d followed me when I was little … to all the times he’d gone out of his way to make me laugh … to all the times I’d caught him staring at me.
“Yes,” I muttered.
“I see.” Irene smiled. “Well, you know, Mom always says—”
Suddenly the diner door swung open and two young men strolled in. My stomach lurched at the sight. Sam and Russell.
Irene brightened and stepped behind the counter. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. What will it be?”
Russell slid into a seat beside me. “Hi, Allie.” He looked around. “Um … is Charlie here?”
I shook my head and glanced at Sam. He was ignoring me, frowning hard at the menu. My cheeks grew hot.
“I’ll just have a root beer float,” Russell said, turning back to Irene.
“Coming right up!” Irene glanced at me. “Oh, Allie, can you change the song on the jukebox? I think number thirty-eight would be quite fitting.” She gave a little wink.
I slid out of my seat and walked over to the jukebox. Number thirty-eight … Benny Goodman’s orchestra filled the air. “Taking a Chance on Love.” I made a face. Seriously, Irene?
Sam was fiddling with a straw when I got back to the bar. He glanced at me and reddened.
This is just great. I can’t even sit in the same room as him. I glared at the jukebox. Especially with this stupid song playing.
“I’m just gonna go,” I mumbled, pushing away from the bar. I reached into my pocket but Irene waved me away.
“It’s free.” She lowered her voice and leaned her head toward me. “And Allie,” she whispered, “don’t be afraid of yourself. Just a thought.” She shot her eyes to Sam and turned back to the soda fountain.
I shuffled out of the diner, my eyes glued to the floor. I feel like a five-year-old. I could only imagine what Russell and Sam were thinking. Why is life so complicated?
Beatrice frowned and motioned at my plate with her fork. “Aren’t you hungry?”
I looked at the potatoes turning into cold lumps before me. “Not really.”
Beatrice’s face pinched in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just …” I sighed and pushed around the food on my plate. “I had a fight with Sam and now he won’t speak to me.”
“What did you two fight about?”
“Nothing.” I went back to pushing around my food. Why did I think she would understand?
“Allie,” Beatrice lowered her voice. “You know you can talk to me.”
I looked up into her dark-brown eyes, hidden behind wire glasses. “I don’t think I’m what he expected me to be.”
“What do you mean?”
Tears stung at my eyes. “I’m mean and rude and he’s obviously prideful, and I just … I just don’t think we fit well together.”
Beatrice tapped her chin with her finger. “Have you tried apologizing?”
“No.” I don’t apologize. Ever. I looked down.
“Sam seems like a nice boy. I’d hate to see you stay mad at him for no apparent reason.” Beatrice nodded at my food. “You’d better eat, though. It wouldn’t serve you any better to be upset and hungry.”
I gave her a small smile and took a bite of potatoes.
The doorbell rang. I pushed back my chair and dropped my napkin. “I’ll see who that is.”
“Don’t tarry too long. Your supper will get cold!” Beatrice called.
I laughed. “It already is!”
I swung open the front door and came to an immediate stop. Sam Carroll stood in front of me, swaying back and forth. “Um … can I talk to you?”
I nodded and stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind me and leaning against the house for support. My heart was pounding in my chest.
“I, uh …” Sam took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “I came to say I was sorry. I acted rude and childish and you don’t deserve that.”
He was staring at me with his blue eyes, looking so honest and sorry. “How do you know what I deserve?” I whispered.
Sam gave me a crooked smile. “Wanna go for a walk?”
I nodded and followed him down the steps, ignoring the screaming pain of hot rocks beneath my bare feet. Finally we reached the sand. I looked up and saw Sam staring at me.
“You must be really mad at me,” he said.
I shook my head. “I was at that moment, but —”
“I deserve it,” Sam interrupted.
“No, you don’t.” I frowned. “You should be the one mad at me. I spoke very cruelly to you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You can’t help it if you don’t love me, can you?” Sam gave me a wry smile.
My stomach pinched. “I, uh … I guess we can be friends again now.”
Sam looked as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Of course. I hope we’re always friends.”
“Me too,” I whispered. And I meant it. I knelt and picked up a shell, letting the sand trickle out. “I love seashells.”
Sam grinned. “They’re very pretty — as long as I have shoes on.”
“Well, this is a good shell.” I tucked the shell in my pocket. “Save it for a rainy day,” I explained. “Something Mama taught me.”
Sam wrung his hands, looking nervous. “I, um … I telephoned my mother today.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He stopped and squinted at the sun sinking into the ocean. Soft shades of pink and orange flickered over his face. “I told her that from now on I’m making my own decisions, but that I still want her to support me. I still need her to support me.”
“That’s wonderful.” I felt a pang in my chest. “I’m happy for you.” I turned and started walking back up the beach, fighting the impulse to grab his hand and squeeze it. That would be a dumb thing to do. I nibbled my lip. “Are you going back home?”
“No.”
“Oh.” I felt pressure release in my chest. “Good.” I couldn’t help the silly smile that spread across my face.
Sam stopped in front of my door and bowed charmingly. “Good night, m’lady.”
I fought back giggles. “Good night.”
I stood in the doorway and watched him trudge back toward his aunt’s house, whistling to himself. Then I shut the door and leaned against it, closing my eyes.
“Who was that?” My lids flashed open. Beatrice stood by the staircase, holding my dinner plate in her hand.
“Sam.” I began walking up the stairs. My cheeks hurt from smiling. I felt light and bubbly, like I needed to spread my sunshine. I scurried back down and leaned over, planting a quick kiss on Beatrice’s cheek. “Good night.”
Beatrice’s eyes widened. “Good night.”
I ran up the stairs and into my room. Opening my journal, I grabbed a roll of masking tape and fastened the seashell to an empty page. I smiled and stroked the smooth shell. For a rainy day.
“Russell is perfect for me,” Charlie sighed, leaning back into the vinyl seat. “We have so much in common with each other.”
“Like what?” The sarcasm in my voice stung. I winced and looked down.
Charlie grimaced. “Well, we both enjoy things like riding bikes and looking at the stars.”
“Oh.” I fingered the rim of my milkshake glass and looked around the nearly empty diner. But their characters aren’t similar— their strengths and weaknesses aren’t the same like … I shook my head to clear my thoughts and downed my shake.
Charlie smiled. “Russell’s going to grow up to be a famous scientist, Allie. I just know it! And once he gets back from the war —”
I jerked up in my seat. “Russell’s going to war?”
Charlie’s big blue eyes watered up. “Yes. Russell’s leaving the first week of June, before he gets drafted … Sam’s going too, I think. He departs next week. Though I’m sure you know that already —you see each other so often now.” She twisted the ring on her finger. I hadn’t even noticed she was wearing it.
&nb
sp; “But Russell says before he leaves” — Charlie’s voice quivered with excitement —”he’ll marry me and I’ll be Mrs. Russell Wilkinson. Oh, Allie, he asked me last night!”
Charlie began going on about the proposal and waved her ring at me, but my mind was rushing. Sam was going to the war? Why didn’t he tell me? My blood started to boil. What’s wrong with him? He could at least have had the decency to …
By the time I refocused, Charlie was sighing and gazing off in the distance, rambling on about Russell’s virtues. “He’s so kind and gentle, and when he smiles at me.…” She glanced at me as if realizing something for the first time. “You know, I always thought I wanted to marry Russell in order to be rich and happy. But now I want to marry him because I honestly think I would make him happy too.” She gripped my arm. “Allie, I’ve never felt this way about any boy before. I think he’s the first ever man I’ve really fallen in love with.”
Sam’s going to war. I pushed my milkshake away and bolted out of my seat. I thought I heard Charlie shouting after me once I burst through the swinging door, but I was to the car before she had a chance to catch up.
My hand gripped the steering wheel unsteadily as my thoughts whirled. Someone honked at me as I raced past the grocery store.
What is Sam thinking? He can’t go to Europe!
I pushed my free hand through my hair. If he kept acting up like this I would die of a heart attack before I was thirty.
Blood pounded in my ears as I pulled into the driveway. As I opened the car door, I saw another car whiz down the road, with Sam behind the wheel.
“Sam!” I slammed shut the door and tried to run down the street. My foot twisted in my heels. “Dratted things,” I muttered as I pulled off my shoes.
Sam’s car slowed to a stop, allowing me to arrive at the window just as Sam stuck his head out.
“Sam Carroll, what in the world are you thinking? You’re so … obtuse sometimes!” I screamed, waving one of my shoes at him.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that an insult? I’m sorry, but I don’t speak the higher language.”
I leaned forward and shoved him. He moved back in his seat, shielding himself. “Hey, what was that for?”
“For joining the army!” I shoved him again. Why do I have to know him? Why do I have to put up with him?
“Why shouldn’t I join the army? It’s always been my dream and you know it.” Sam was bristling now. “You said yourself that if it wasn’t for the men who gave their lives on the battlefield, we wouldn’t have the same freedoms we do today.”
“Because you could get killed!” I screamed.
“Why should you care if I get killed?” Sam’s voice was rising too. His blue eyes were set in challenge.
“If you die, I’ll be all alone!” Honestly, how could he be so idiotic? My chest rose and fell as I stared at him.
“Why do you care if you’re all alone?”
“Because I love you!” I hit him as hard as I could with my high heel. His eyes widened.
My eyes widened too, and I turned around and ran, dropping my shoes on the ground.
“Allie!” I heard Sam’s shoes on the gravel behind me, hopping out of the car. I closed my eyes and ran down the street, past my house, and toward the beach. My bare feet blistered on the hot sand, forcing me to slow down when I reached the waterfront. I bit my lip and stared at the ocean, refusing to turn around.
“Allie?” Sam stopped somewhere behind me. I listened to him panting.
I wiggled my toes in the cool water.
“Allie, I love you.” Sam cleared his throat, which had started to sound clogged. “I know I have to go away, but I don’t want to go without knowing for sure that you love me too. Allie, I want you to marry me.” His voice cracked and stopped.
My heart felt wrenched. I balled up my toes in the sand and took a deep breath. “How do I know you won’t leave me too?” I bit my lip. “How do I know for sure that you’ll be okay?”
“Allie …” Sam sighed and touched my shoulder, turning me to face him. I wiped my cheeks before I looked him in the eyes. “Allie,” he said gently, “I can’t promise you that I’ll be here forever, or even for long, but I can promise I will love you for as long as I’m alive.”
I looked at my feet, but Sam reached up a finger to lift my chin. “Allie?” he whispered, stroking my cheek. His eyes looked so scared — so worried that I would reject him and shove him out for good.
I took a deep breath and gave him a shaky smile. “I love you, Sam Carroll.”
He smiled too and pulled me close, reaching out to hold my hand.
“Allie!” a voice shouted.
I jumped back to see Beatrice standing on the porch, scanning the yard for us. “I’m right here, Beatrice!” I shouted, waving my hand.
“Oh, there you are!” Beatrice smiled at us. “Sam, there’s a police officer here saying something about a car parked in the middle of the road!”
Sam gave me a crazy grin and called back, “I’ll be right there!”
Beatrice nodded and turned back inside.
Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand, running back to the house. “Come on. It appears the constable doesn’t understand love.”
I pulled up my knees to my chest and sighed. In front of me was a blank journal page. As the words played in my head, my chest felt so tight I thought it would burst. I leaned my head against the windowsill and closed my eyes, savoring the moment.
Then I opened them and picked up my pen.
August 19, 1943
Mama,
I stared at the word. All alone on the page, it suddenly seemed the loneliest four letters in existence.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had written Mama. Maybe sometime at the beginning of the summer? Before Sam came? Before everything turned upside down and crazy.
Mama … I pressed the pen to my lips. It was cool and smooth, chilling my mouth.
Mama,
I think I am engaged. To Sam. You remember him, right? I imagine you approve of him, because you always seemed to take a liking to him, even when I didn’t. I love him. I really do. But I don’t want to see him go. It hurts to love someone and lose them. I don’t know what I would do if that happened again.
I want to hold this love inside of me, because I’m afraid if I let it out, he’ll take it with him and I’ll lose him. Then I won’t be able to get the love back, and there’ll be a hole in my heart where it used to be. I have my love for you, and my love for Sam. But if I lose him too, I won’t have any love left over. And then I’ll just feel empty — like you did with Dad. I think that is my biggest fear.
“You look lovely, Allie,” Sam whispered, kissing my gloved hand.
My heart squeezed. I tilted down my hat so that no one would see the tear sliding down my cheek. “Thank you.” I managed a smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” I fixed a crease in his uniform.
Sam lifted my chin and wiped away the tear. “Don’t cry.”
I looked away. It was too much to see Sam in his newly pressed uniform standing in front of me. Especially with a young couple embracing on the other side of the station; the girl was weeping as her sweetheart kissed her.
“Allie,” Sam whispered. “I’ll be back.”
“I know.” I gulped and focused on a spot near his shoulder.
“And then we’ll hear the church bells ring and you’ll look beautiful in that white dress.” Sam squeezed my hand, his voice growing shaky.
“I’d like to have a June wedding, so I can have roses,” I whispered, looking up at him. “My mother loved roses.”
Sam nodded. “I remember.” A whistle shrilled and smoke filled the station. I coughed as my lungs began to cloud up. I gripped Sam’s sleeves and looked up to see the train rolling onto the platform.
“Sam?”
“Yes, Allie?”
I looked down and brushed off his uniform, taking a deep breath. I raised my chin. “Just be careful.”
Sam cleare
d his throat. “If I write to you, will you write to me?”
I fought down the hot, sick feeling in my stomach and managed to nod. “Of course,” I said, a bit more sharply than I intended. “If I find time.”
Sam just smiled at me. “I’ll pass the time by imagining you — reading Emily Dickinson and writing in that little notebook of yours.” He chuckled. “I hope you don’t glare at any other young men while I’m gone.”
“I’ll try to resist,” I said sarcastically.
“All aboard!” A man yelled, hopping off the train.
Sam gave my hand one last squeeze and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. “Good-bye, Allie,” he whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I whispered back.
And then it was all over, and in a puff of smoke the train was pulling away from me. I realized I was alone and frantically looked for Sam. There he was, sticking his head out of a window and giving me a little wave.
I pressed my gloved hand to my cheek. It suddenly felt cold.
“Allie?” Beatrice called as I walked into the kitchen and dropped the keys on the table. I sank into a chair and stared out the window.
Beatrice came in from the living room and glanced at me. I ignored her and continued to watch a caterpillar inch its way up the glass.
From the parlor, a Billie Holiday record was playing. “I’ll be seeing you,” her voice crooned, “in all the old familiar places …”
“Could you turn that off?” I asked sharply.
A few seconds later, the room was silent. Beatrice poked her head in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a half-finished sock. “Are you okay, Allie?”
I reached up to wipe a tear off my cheek before smoothing back my hair. “Of course. I’m fine. I just have a headache.”
Beatrice pulled out a chair and sat down, her eyes on her knitting. “Did things not go well at the station?”
I shook my head. “They went as well as they could go.”
Beatrice reached out and squeezed my knee. “He’ll come home soon. In the blink of an eye, in fact.” She snapped a finger. “And then we’ll have a big wedding right here at the house!”
She fidgeted with her needles and glanced up. “Still unhappy?” she asked in a low voice. “Do you want to talk about it?”