One Lavender Ribbon (11 page)

October 1944

Dear Gracie,

Something I’ve learned while being here is that a man must have clear vision. Sometimes I wonder what keeps the others going. You keep me going, Grace. The thought of your smile when we’d watch the dolphins play along the sandbar, the wind in your hair, the shimmer of sun on your skin. This would be an impossible task if it weren’t for those things. They reach to me, Gracie. Even though you’re so far away, I relive your smile, I relive your touch. Over and over I see you there, standing before me, your arms outstretched and waiting. That image keeps me alive.

I look at Rick and Chuck and the others, and I wonder. Do they have a Gracie back home? Someone who powers their ability to get up, keep moving? I won’t lie to you. There’ve been times my heart failed me and I wanted to give up. But you are the strength I lean on, the power that fuels me, from my heart to my mind, to every limb of my body.

Love is a peculiar thing, I think, lending its persuasiveness to every area of a man and giving him the fortitude to live, to thrive, to survive. Thank you for the treasure that is you. Thank you for giving me vision. And most of all, Grace, thank you for loving me.

All my heart,

William

She sighed and smiled. A light breeze lifted Adrienne’s hair from her shoulders, dragging the humidity of summer with it, but she didn’t mind. This was her home now. She watched as a tiny green frog dove off the end of her back deck. There was much to love about southern Florida. Come to think of it, she really didn’t miss Chicago at all.

R
yan, hi,” Adrienne said, eyes wide, pulling the door open. She hadn’t expected him to drop by.

Three months before, she had met him on this very porch for the first time, after a long, fitful night’s sleep in a huge house that creaked and moaned its own lullaby. Her hair had been a mess, and the sofa she’d slept on had left its imprint on her cheek. She’d pulled the door open to find a muscled, tan grad student stuffed into a Florida State T-shirt, claiming to be one of Mary Lathrop’s friends. And so a sort of relationship began. First he’d invited her out with some of his friends. Being lonely, she’d taken the invite after a few panicked hours of consideration. Ryan had been patient with her, treating her more like a friend than a date on numerous occasions. Then the big crowds became smaller, until it was just the two of them. Eeeeeaaaase into dating, her dad had told her. Ryan had seen to that. There’d always be a soft place in her heart for him.

“Hey,” he said easily as she motioned for him to come inside. He was still muscular. Still tan. Because they had discussed the boundaries of their relationship, it shouldn’t make her uncomfortable that he was here, but it sent little tremors of doubt through her. Adrienne—horrible at confrontation—didn’t want to have to figure out their friendship
again.

“I was at the coffee shop the other morning, and Sammie told me about all the progress you’ve made on the house.”

What a relief. It’s just a friendly visit to check out the ongoing project.
Excitement overtook any lingering apprehension. “Do you want to look around?”

He nodded and gave her a dazzling smile. He inspected the living room and glanced into the kitchen. “You’ve transformed this place. It doesn’t seem like the same house.”

The living room walls were painted a rich buttery color and the chair rail had received a crisp, new coat of white. She had stripped the ornate fireplace mantel to reveal hand-carved mahogany that, now stained, seemed to glow. In every corner, she’d found the home’s expression, the room’s personality. It was evolving into a masterpiece far beyond her expectations. Adrienne couldn’t hide her delight. “I never really thought I could do it. And there is still a lot of work to be done, but I really think I’m going to be able to pull it off.” She didn’t mind enlisting the help of professionals whenever a job was too daunting, but she hadn’t given up and called in a general contractor like Eric had told her she would. He’d ridiculed her relentlessly when she told him she would spend her divorce settlement money on a dilapidated Victorian monster poised on the Gulf of Mexico.

After a closer examination of the kitchen and discussing what was left to do there, she offered Ryan a glass of iced tea and gestured toward the back deck. Opening the French door caused sea air to slam into Ryan and pushed him closer to Adrienne. She sidestepped and dropped into a lawn chair. They sat and watched waves rush up the shore, chasing tiny birds searching for a meal. She could hear some families farther down the beach. Now and then, she allowed her gaze to drift over to Ryan. Gone was that schoolgirl fluttery feeling, she realized, and was thankful for that. In its place was just the genuine warmth of seeing a friend.

After a few minutes of silence, Ryan turned to her. “So tell me about the letters.”

Shocked, Adrienne threw a look his way. Sammie must have told him. Of course, she hadn’t asked her not to tell anyone; she’d just expected it. The battle within her began. At first she was reluctant to talk about William Bryant and his story, but as she sat there thinking about war and bravery, it became clear that his was a story that needed to be heard. It was beautiful. It was inspiring.

Over the next hour, she shared William’s life with Ryan. Ryan listened, occasionally asking a question, and had actually inserted some interesting facts and tidbits of information. He was a World War II buff. “He’s a war hero, Adrienne. The real deal.”

She loved the fact that others found William as intriguing as she did. But something had consistently plagued her thoughts after meeting him three nights ago: Grace and the fact she’d continued to write William even though she’d fallen in love with someone else. The last letter was dated 1945. Grace had continued to write for close to two years. Maybe it was as simple as Gracie wanting to have a backup plan if her new love didn’t work out. “I got to meet him, you know.”

“You mean William?” Ryan took a long drink of tea, cubes of ice clinking as he finished.

“Yes. And I’m going back. I have to pick up some granite samples in Naples tomorrow.”

“So you’re going to go with granite after all?”

“Yes.” Adrienne had agonized over the decision. Beauty versus price and practicality, but in the end, her love of gourmet cooking outweighed any price factor. Even though it stretched her budget to the hilt and left no room for error, granite she would have.

Ryan wiped his hands on his shorts and reached for the letters sitting between them. He rifled through, the old pages delicately and more interested in their contents than her counter choice. “So what’s he like?”

“Old. And amazing. As amazing as his letters. Listen to this.” She took the stack from him and searched for one. “Their company was being moved from one location to another. They stopped in a village that had been abandoned. They only had a few hours to rest.” She unfolded the letter and began to read.

We’d been walking for eleven hours. Though paratroopers are jumpers, we’ve put more miles on our boots than a lot of foot soldiers. It was a cool night, but not cold. The beauty of the French countryside surrounded us. Had it not been for the remnants of battle, it would have been the most picturesque place I’ve ever seen. It had been two days since most of us had slept, so being allowed a seven-hour break was a welcome gift.

Then we saw her. She was standing in the doorway of a home that, like the others, had been all but destroyed by the constant shelling that had caused the evacuation of the town. She was a pretty girl, Gracie, reminding me of what Sara may look like in a few years. There were cuts on her arms, but her wounds seemed superficial. We wondered if she’d been left behind accidentally.

We could see she wanted to run, but she stood firm as we moved toward her. She picked up a broom handle as if she would take on the whole lot of us if she needed to. Amos made his way to her first. Being from Louisiana, he spoke some French, so we were able to discover why she was there. Once sure we meant her no harm, she pleaded with us to help her. An elderly woman lay in the small bedroom. The young girl explained that she had been too sick to move, so they stayed there despite the order to evacuate. It got into all our hearts.

Gracie, always remember when one is confronted with a random act of kindness that is neither expected nor ordinary, one is obligated to meet that kindness and exceed it if possible.

So that’s what we did. Taking turns, we repaired the roof of her house. The war was nearing its completion, or so we had been told. If we could leave her with enough food for a couple months, she might have a chance. Doc, our medic, examined the girl’s grandmother. He left her with some medicine. Most of us only got a couple hours of sleep that night, but what we’d accomplished in that few hours rejuvenated us unlike sleep ever could. It might even be enough to keep us going for the remainder of the war. We’ve brought so much death, bringing life replaced a bit of what we’d lost.

“Read that part again about a random act of kindness.” Ryan leaned his weight on the chair arm.

Adrienne didn’t have to read it. She’d probably read it a hundred times and now could quote it without looking. She dropped the paper to her lap. “When one is confronted with a random act of kindness that is neither expected nor ordinary, one is obligated to meet that kindness and exceed it if possible.”

“I’ve never heard anyone talk like that,” Ryan admitted, tilting his face to the setting sun.

“People should, though. And live by it as well.”

Ryan nodded, leaning back in the flower print cushion on the Adirondack chair. Silence fell over them as they watched a shrimp boat slide across the horizon.

“Can I tell you something?” Adrienne said.

Ryan angled to look at her.

“Meeting him, reading his letters . . . it’s changing me.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “I don’t think I ever thought of love as a force, a thing that gives you power.”

Ryan chuckled.

“Sounds stupid, right?” Her eyes rolled.

“Not if it’s how you feel.” Ryan leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Tell me about this force, Adrienne.”

She shrugged. “I can’t. It’s elusive.”

“Like the green flash?”

Adrienne had heard of the phenomenon that happened on the beach just as the sun set. A green flash, shooting across the horizon and lasting only a couple of seconds. She’d watched the sunset almost every night and had never seen it. “Maybe even more elusive than that. But I’ll keep watching for it. I had just about given up on love before the letters. I guess that’s how they’re changing me.”

Ryan leaned back, placed his head against the chair and shut his eyes. “Good. You need it.”

“Ryan!”

“What?”

“That’s . . . that’s not very nice to say.” The wind kicked up, annoying little fingerlings of air tossing her hair in too many directions. She gathered it at her nape and trapped the strands against the chair back.

“We’re friends, right? So I should be able to talk freely.” He paused for half a second. “You’re an amazing woman, Adrienne. Some dude is going to be lucky to snag you. But fact is, that jerk in Chicago really did a number on you. So if love is like the green flash, and you’ve started watching for it again, good for you. You needed it.”

Adrienne blinked, unsure what surprised her the most: the fact that she and Ryan were having this conversation or the fact that she kept surrounding herself with blunt people who apparently had no filter on their mouths. She sighed, leaned forward, shook her head violently, and let the wind have its way. “You’re right.”

“So, let those letters work their magic.”

Adrienne settled more deeply into her chair and closed her eyes, copying Ryan’s posture. “They are, Ryan. Believe me. They are.”

A
drienne sat in the dark in the first bedroom at the top of the stairs. This was the smallest of the three bedrooms and, like the others, displayed circa 1930s wallpaper. The crown molding framing the room was painted white but had darkened as years rolled by and time left its mark. This would be the first bedroom she’d remodel, she decided. She had finished much of the downstairs, and it was time to begin the upstairs projects. But that’s not why she sat here now.