Blue Skies Tomorrow (47 page)

“Couldn’t be. It must have been a joke.” Ray wasn’t the type to barge in on a wedding . . . but he also wasn’t the type to play practical jokes. Of course, she didn’t think he was the type to steal an airplane either. Who was this man?

“Well, he’s coming this way. You can ask him yourself.”

He crossed to the side aisle, his gaze locked on her.

Not now. She had to get away and compose herself, pray about this, and figure out what to do. Helen stood and grabbed Jay-Jay’s hand, but Betty blocked her escape.

“Ray! Over here.” Betty waved him over and drew him into a hug. “Goodness, your mom needs to fatten you up.”

“I’ll say.” He turned to Helen, one arm slightly extended in a subtle invitation for a hug, but he didn’t step forward.

Neither did Helen. She was a porcelain vase, rapped and cracked. One touch from Ray and she’d shatter.

His soft smile threatened to shatter her as well. “Hi, Helen.”

“I can’t . . . I can’t . . .”

“I can’t believe it either,” he said with a quick shrug. “So, I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Congratulations?” She searched his face, but his polite smile revealed nothing.

“You and Vic? When’s the date?”

Her eyes opened and closed, over and over, as she tried to comprehend. He thought she was still marrying Vic. Was Betty right? Was that why he barged in? To stop her wedding?

“You didn’t hear,” Betty said. “She broke up with Vic, thank goodness. You wouldn’t believe what he did.”

Helen snapped her gaze to her sister. “We mustn’t gossip.”

Betty slung her purse over her shoulder. “She never loved him anyway. She only agreed to marry him to get out of the Carlisle house, and who can blame her after what Mr. Carlisle did?”

“Betty, please. No gossip.”

“It’s not gossip. It’s the truth.”

“Oh, Helen.” Ray stared at her cheek, his voice low and husky. “Did he do that?”

Her hand flew to her cheek, but she lowered it. No more performances. “That’s why I moved out. I’m leaving for Washington DC tomorrow. I would have gone today but . . .”

One corner of his mouth crept up. “So that’s what Allie meant by ‘just in time.’ ”

“Excuse me?” Helen said.

Jay-Jay tugged Ray’s trouser leg, and Ray squatted. “Hello, munchkin. You’ve sure grown up.”

Jay-Jay gasped. “You’re right, Mama.”

“Your mama’s always right and don’t ever forget it,” Ray said. “I brought you something from Germany. I’ll give it to you later.”

Helen’s mouth flopped open. “You brought souvenirs?”

Ray’s laugh scrambled up her insides. “That’s the only one. Well, and the plane, the manual, the Luftwaffe uniform. Though I want to get the uniform back to Johannes’s family somehow.”

Jay-Jay balanced on one leg like a flamingo. “Why din’t Jesus want you?”

Ray shot Helen a quizzical look.

“I told him you—you went to be with Jesus.” Her voice cracked.

He gave her the longest look, full of knee-buckling compassion, and then lowered his gaze to Jay-Jay. “Sorry, munchkin. I didn’t get to see Jesus. He still has plans for me here on earth.”

He looked up to Helen. His eyes shone with hope, but questions tugged at the edges.

Helen couldn’t breathe, and she grabbed the pew back for support. Goodness, he still cared for her.

Mrs. Novak came down the aisle in a flurry. “Ray, how could you boys—all three of you home, and Ruth too, and not one telegram to warn us.”

Ray stood and put his arm around his mother’s waist. “And miss seeing the look on your face?”

She swatted him on the stomach. “You rascal. Good thing I already had a reception planned at the house after the service. We have so much more than victory to celebrate.”

The reception? Just what she needed. Work—not to cure her or make her worthy, but to help her sort out her emotions. “Mrs. Novak, if you’d like, I could set things up.”

“Would you? You’re such a dear.”

Helen took Jay-Jay’s hand and headed up the aisle.

“Helen,” Ray called. “I need to talk to you.”

She waved and smiled. “I’ll see you at the reception.”

Betty asked her to wait up, but Helen forged ahead at a speed her heavily pregnant sister couldn’t maintain. Betty would ask blunt questions Helen couldn’t handle, not with Ray’s dreamy look fogging her mind.

Yes, dreamy. The look of a man who didn’t want to renew their friendship, but their romance. Thinking of his kindness woven through with a new thread of boldness, thinking of the man she loved returning her love—it wreaked havoc with her heart.

47

Grandpa Novak shifted on the couch in the living room. “So, boy, tell us again how you blew up that tanker.”

The retired gentlemen gathered around Ray nodded in agreement.

Ray launched into his story. So much for only having to tell it once.

The house throbbed with activity. In the parlor, Walt and Jack took turns pounding out tunes on the piano while children danced. Sometimes Jay-Jay’s squeal rose above the crowd. He probably didn’t say
daff
anymore.

Helen burst out of the kitchen with a tray, exchanged it with one on the dining room table, and returned to the kitchen with a cute bump of her hip to the door.

She was avoiding him. Either he’d made his love too obvious and she didn’t welcome it, or she was using work to deal with her feelings. Ray had to find out which and soon. He wouldn’t let her leave town tomorrow unless he was certain she had no interest in him.

Something in her eyes when they talked in church said some interest remained.

He finished his story with a ka-boom, and the men grinned and laughed and slapped knees. Any one of them would have enjoyed his adventures more than he had.

Ray scooted forward in the armchair. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I need more coffee.”

Allie passed by with a stack of plates. “I’ll bring you a fresh cup.”

That’s how it had been for the past hour and a half. Everyone brought him food and drink and trapped him in storytelling.

No more. Ray stood. “Need to stretch my legs.”

He entered the kitchen and groaned. Helen and four other women bustled about. How could he get her alone?

Helen gasped. “Oh dear. Did we run out of something?”

“No. I thought I’d—I’d like some milk.” He pulled a glass from the cupboard and opened the icebox. How could he get the other women to leave?

“You should rest. Go sit down. I’ll bring you some.” She reached for the bottle.

Ray poured milk into the glass. “I’m a big boy. I can do it myself.”

She leaned her hip against the counter and smiled. “You can’t avoid the party in here forever.”

He took a sip and raised his eyebrows at her. “Neither can you.”

Her lips parted, and she squinted at him. “Ruth dear, why don’t you escort your patient back to his seat of honor?”

Ruth took him by the elbow and guided him out of the kitchen. “That’s her polite way of saying you’re in her way. She’s a busy one, isn’t she?”

“Oh yeah.” Busy avoiding him, but he grinned. Something remained between them, and he planned to stir it to life.

Ruth led him to the armchair. “Sit and rest. Nurse’s orders.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ray sat, gulped down the milk, and got up again. “That was good. I’ll get some more.”

“No, you don’t. I’ll get it.”

“Wait. It’s your first day here. Shouldn’t you be with Jack, meeting his friends? Send Helen out with it.”

She studied him with a little smile. “I thought Jack was the manipulative one in this family.”

“He is. I’m the nice one.”

“Oh brother. You’re all hopeless. I’ll send her out.”

Ray settled into the armchair and listened partway to the men’s discussion of last week’s prison riot on Alcatraz that required Marine intervention. As if the Marines didn’t already have a war to fight.

Helen emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of milk. She stood in front of Ray’s chair, eyebrows arched. “You rang?”

“Yes, ma’am. May I please have some more?” He held his glass low, so she’d have to come closer.

“Thirsty, aren’t you?” She leaned over to pour, and blonde curls spilled over her shoulder.

“Mm-hmm.” He wanted to weave his fingers into her hair and pull her down to his lap for a long kiss. “Martha, Martha.”

She paused and looked at him with those delicious eyes. “Martha?”

He didn’t want milk anymore. He wanted tea and lots of it. “Sit and talk with your brother Lazarus.”

Helen straightened up and tilted him a smile. “No, thank you. Remember what Martha said after Jesus raised her brother? Lazarus stank.” She waved her hand in front of her pretty little nose and whirled away.

All the men laughed and joshed Ray and slapped his scrawny shoulders.

Ray smiled like a fool, but he didn’t care. Something remained, all right, and he intended to claim it. He stood and set his milk, untouched, on the coffee table. “Excuse me, men, but I have an important mission.”

Helen’s hands trembled as she set a handful of strawberries on the cutting board. The banter with Ray rattled and drained her.

Her chest heaved, and she muffled a sob, mindful of the other ladies in the kitchen.

It was too much to handle, too much for one day—Ray alive and home and interested in her. The mutual attraction hummed with life, and she could practically taste his kisses. But if he touched her, she’d turn into a blubbering idiot.

What next? She didn’t want to leave town now, but Ray would reclaim his room, and where would she live? And if she stayed, wouldn’t everyone think she was pining over Ray? What if he wasn’t interested in her romantically? What if she’d misinterpreted everything?

But no. He wanted to stop her from marrying Vic. The way he looked at her, the way he teased her, the way he sent for her—it was too wonderful.

Helen lifted the knife over the strawberries, but it shook in a silver blur, and she set it down. She was in no state to use a knife.

The kitchen door swung open. Oh goodness, Ray again.

“Excuse me, ladies.” He strode through the kitchen, pushed open the door to the backyard, and faced Helen. “Since you won’t sit and talk, we’ll go outside. In the fresh air you won’t notice my odor.” He dropped her a wink.

Under the force of his humor and determination, she had to clutch the counter for support.

“Go, Helen.” Esther nudged her from behind.

Betty put one hand where her hip used to be. “If you don’t go, we’ll drag you out there.”

“No need for violence.” Helen fumbled with her apron, untied it, and set it aside. She headed for the door as if this would be a casual conversation, an everyday occurrence, but as she brushed past Ray’s warmth in the doorway, she crossed another threshold—from the claustrophobia of expectations and performances to open, verdant, genuine life.

She forced breath over tingling lips as she walked with Ray across the yard, weaving among trees in full leaf, blossoms shed and replaced with embryonic green fruit.

At the back fence, Ray turned to her—tender, amused, and silent.

Helen ripped her gaze away to the trees wagging their branches over her head. “It’s beautiful out here.”

“Beautiful.” But he didn’t look at the trees or the sky, only at her.

This couldn’t be happening. How could he be alive? How could he look at her like that? How could he stand so close? Close enough to touch.

“Everyone wants to talk to the dead guy. Everyone but you. But you can’t avoid me forever.”

“I’m not . . .”

He tipped a smile.

Her breath rushed out, not quite a laugh. “All right, I am. But it’s so much, so emotional. I think—I think joy can be as nerve-wracking as grief.”

“So you’re happy.” His gaze asked much more.

“Very much. But—but I still can’t believe you’re alive.”

“So take time to get used to it. Don’t go to Washington.” His gray gaze held her with the softness of flannel and the strength of steel.

“I won’t.” Her voice fluttered out.

“Good.” He moved closer, and something ignited in that gray, a fire she’d never thought she’d see again. He ran his fingers into her hair, behind her head, and tilted her face up. “I want you here with me. Always.”

The warm touch of his living flesh coursed through her. Her knees buckled, but he embraced her, pulled her close, held her together, and pressed his lips to hers, his warm, living lips. All the old passion returned, lit by a new flame of longing fulfilled and life reborn.

Everything spun in Helen’s head, all her emotions and plans, all she thought she knew about Ray and about herself. He cared for her as much as before, if not more.

New strength surged inside and braced her legs. She caressed his back, his shoulders, his face—thin but alive. And hers. He was hers.

Ray pulled back, and the steel came to the foreground of his eyes. “I love you. I love you so much, and I won’t let you get away. You’re going to Ohio with me. You and Jay-Jay. Walt and Allie will be there too. We’ll find you a room and a job, and maybe Allie can watch Jay-Jay while you work. Until you’re ready to get married.”

With those words he rubbed out her dreary future, and a new future zoomed into rainbow-hued focus, brilliant in the light of his love. His love! He loved her. “All right.”