When the Clouds Roll By (5 page)

“Thomas Ballard, at your service.” He gripped Samuel’s hand and pumped it violently. “Guess we were too preoccupied at the depot for formal introductions. Then my mother took over and I decided to get out of the way.”

Samuel had certainly taken note of the domineering Mrs. Ballard. No wonder Gilbert had so frequently voiced his misgivings about returning to such a smothering welcome. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Thomas. I’m Samuel Vickary. I got acquainted with your brother aboard the
Comfort
while we were shipping back to the States.”

“Here, let’s sit down and take a load off. You must be worn out after your long trip.” Thomas ushered Samuel over to a brocade settee. From here they could look out over busy Central Avenue. “You’re a chaplain, I see. In town for some R and R? Hot Springs is a great place to rest and rejuvenate.”

“Actually, the Army and Navy Hospital is my new duty assignment, and I’m in need of some living quarters.”

“Then look no further. You’ve come to the right place.”

Again, Samuel let his gaze travel the expensively decorated lobby. He released a nervous chuckle. “I’m afraid even a night or two at the Arlington would obliterate my finances. Any chance you could point me toward a rooming house or a reasonably priced apartment?”

“Heavens no! Why, you’ll stay with my mother and me, of course.”

Samuel coughed his surprise.

“I’m serious. The house is huge, and it’s just Mother, me, and a couple of live-in servants. You’d have an entire upstairs wing to yourself.”

Wing?
“Really, I couldn’t impose. Besides, you don’t even know me.”

Thomas’s expression sobered. “I saw you with my brother. I saw the genuine concern in your eyes. And even in those brief moments I could see how much he trusts and relies on you. That’s enough for me. It’ll be enough for my mother, too.”

Samuel lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’ll give you a hint:
yes
.”

Still stunned, Samuel cracked a crooked grin. “All right, then, if you’re sure your mother won’t object.”

“To my brother’s new best friend who also happens to be a man of the cloth?” Thomas clapped Samuel on the shoulder. “Consider yourself part of the family.”

“Thanks. I’m grateful beyond words.” At worst, he’d try the arrangement for a week or two while determining whether he and the Ballards were compatible housemates. And he’d insist on paying a fair rate for room and board.

Then, as Thomas drove him back to the depot to collect his belongings, it occurred to him living at the Ballard home might mean he’d see more of Gilbert’s fiancée.

Annemarie
. Samuel’s pulse quickened at the very thought of her.

He knotted his fists. What would it take for him to shake off such ridiculous notions? Gilbert’s crisis of despair was only temporary, and any day now he’d come to his senses. In the meantime, Samuel had made it his sworn duty to make sure Gilbert found himself again and reclaimed the woman whose love had sustained him through the war.

At least one of them deserved a happy ending.

5

G
ilbert knew it would be like this, Mother hovering, Thomas pressing for details about the war. The only bright spot in this dreaded reunion was seeing his beloved Annemarie again. Dear God, she was even more beautiful than he remembered!

Dear God, give me the strength to give her up.

After days on the train, Gilbert was none too happy about the ambulance ride, three wounded veterans crowded into the back of the small vehicle. At least it was only a few blocks to the hospital.

At least it got him away from his doting mother.

For a while anyway. It didn’t take long for her to find him once he’d been admitted. Her strident voice carried throughout the ward as she kept insisting her son simply must have a private room.

“There are no private rooms available, ma’am,” a nurse patiently explained. “I assure you, your son will get the best of care right here on the ward.”

“But he’s an officer. Are you certain something can’t be arranged—”

“Mother. Stop. Please.” Gilbert sank deeper into his pillow and closed h
is eyes. Tired, so tired. If they’d just let him sleep . . .

“Gilbert?”

The soft, sweet voice ripped a hole in his heart. He slid open his eyes to find Annemarie at his bedside, the same unruly tress creeping across her right temple. At the depot he’d scarcely had two minutes to soak up her beauty, her longing gazes, the tender touch of her hand, until Mother insisted if he sat there a moment longer, he’d “catch his death.”

Death. If the woman only knew how many times he’d faced death on the battlefield, how many times he still faced it in his own dark thoughts.

Annemarie stepped closer and ran a finger along his forehead, nudging aside a lock of hair. He hadn’t had a haircut in weeks, hadn’t shaved for at least two days. He’d seen the stunned look in her eyes when she first glimpsed him at the depot. Wounded, unkempt—how he must look to her! Heaven help him, this was
not
how he’d envisioned his homecoming . . . at least not before a whizzbang from a German 77mm field gun took his leg, tore his arm to shreds, and left him with the mother of all headaches.

Suppressing a groan, he edged higher in the bed and reached for Annemarie’s hand. “What are you doing here? This is no place for you.”

She glanced at their surroundings—rows of beds marching down each side of the ward, trays of medical supplies on steel carts, nurses moving quietly among the patients with cups of water, bowls of broth . . . hypodermics filled with morphine.

A physical craving curdled his belly. He tugged his hand free of Annemarie’s and clenched a fist. How much longer before they’d bring him another injection?

Annemarie was speaking. He swallowed, his mouth tasting like cotton, and shifted his glance to her face. “What did you say?”

She gave a gentle laugh. “I just asked, if I shouldn’t be here, then where should I be?” She bent over him, one arm encircling his head, her breath like gossamer against his cheek. A tear pooled in the corner of her eye. “Oh, Gilbert, I’ve missed you so much!”

“My, my, my!” His mother appeared at his left, hands clasped at her bosom. “How long I have waited to see the two of you together again. Gilbert, dear, I will leave you in Annemarie’s care while I find your doctor to discuss your course of treatment. And see what can be done about a private room.”

“Mother, I told you—”

“No arguments, my darling. Only the very best for my son the war hero.” Dropping a kiss upon his forehead, she bustled out of the ward.

Before Gilbert could apologize to Annemarie for his mother’s interruption—not to mention her usual high-handedness—a nurse approached. “Visiting hours are over. I must ask you to say your good-byes and let our patient have his rest.”

Annemarie cast Gilbert another longing gaze as she stroked his forehead. “I’ll come again tomorrow, as soon as I can break away from the factory.”

This was his chance to tell her not to return, to never see him again. That’s what he’d planned, anyway, all the way across the ocean, then the long train ride home. But she was so beautiful, so very beautiful. And when he looked into those wide brown eyes so filled with love, he could almost forget he’d come home half a man.

He’d never hold her in two strong arms again. He’d never stand beside her on two good legs. He’d never carry her over the threshold into their married life together.

At the far end of the ward, she turned with a smile and a cheery wave before slipping out through the swinging double door. He yearned to cry out, to beg her not to go. Though twenty other patients filled the ward, Gilbert had never felt so alone, not even when he lay blown to bits on a bloody field in France.

He clawed his good hand through the hair at his temple. A thousand cannons exploded inside his skull. “Nurse. Nurse!”

A flame-haired girl in a white apron hurried over. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“The pain—I need my injection.”

The nurse checked his chart and frowned. “I’m so sorry. It’s too soon.”

“There must be something—”

“Let me find a doctor.”

He wanted to tell her to forget the doctor and fetch him a loaded pistol. He was ready to do anything if it would take away the pain.

Why couldn’t You let me die on the battlefield, Lord?

Even a slow, painful death would have been so much easier than giving up the love of his life.

6

H
appy endings. Was there any such thing?

Annemarie tossed the pulp magazine to the foot of her bed. The story she’d just read, a romantic adventure about long-lost lovers reuniting on a tropical island, left her teetering between scornful laughter and sentimental tears.

She normally didn’t go in for such fluff, but sleep eluded her tonight. Ever since she left the hospital, worries over Gilbert had consumed her. As disconcerting as his most recent letters had been, seeing him today only heightened her sense that the war had stolen away the man she loved. This was not the same Gilbert who only a year ago, home on leave before shipping overseas with his division, had kissed her under the mistletoe and sworn his undying love.

Beneath the glow of the bedside lamp, she gazed into the fire-and-ice shimmer of her engagement ring, Gilbert’s gift to her last Christmas. “Wait for me,” he’d said. “Keep a light in the window and a prayer in your heart.”

But today she’d seen no light of love in her Gilbert’s eyes. When he looked at her at all, it seemed as if he looked right through her.

A rap sounded on her bedroom door before it creaked open. “Annemarie?”

“Come in, Mama. I’m awake.”

Her mother tiptoed into the room, whisking the door closed behind her. Wrapped in a thick flannel robe, she motioned Annemarie over and crawled under the quilts next to her. She snuggled Annemarie beneath her arm. “An exciting day for you, wasn’t it? And now you can’t sleep. I don’t blame you.”

Mama smelled of lavender and talcum powder, her loose braid of coffee-colored hair showing glints of silver. Annemarie found the end of her own thick braid and twined it with her mother’s, taking comfort in the satiny feel and the interplay of hues. “Is it wrong for me to be happy Papa didn’t have to go to war?”

Mama looked surprised. “Of course not. Why would you say such a thing?”

“Only because so many others didn’t have a choice.” Annemarie sat up and hugged her knees beneath her chin. “I can’t help thinking about our friends who are never coming home. Ollie Lang, Howard McNeil, Francis Ferguson, so many others. If I’d lost Papa, if I’d lost Gilbert—”

“You mustn’t dwell on such thoughts. Just thank the Lord your papa was too old for the draft and our prayers brought Gilbert home alive.”

“I do thank God, but—” How could she reconcile the seeming absurdity of believing their prayers had protected Gilbert when surely every parent, sister, wife, and child had prayed just as fervently for their own loved ones’ safe return?

Tossing aside the covers, Annemarie scrambled to the other side of the bed and marched to the chair where she’d laid her robe.

“Come back to bed, Annie. I’ll sit with you till you fall asleep.”

“It’s no use.” Annemarie stuffed her arms into the sleeves of her robe and looped the belt at her waist, then pulled on a pair of warm wool socks. Finding her slippers under the edge of the bed, she slid them on and extended a hand to her mother. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your own room.”

With a reluctant shiver, Mama crawled out from beneath the quilts. “And what exactly are you planning to do this time of night? It’s nigh on one o’clock.”

“The one thing I can always count on to take my mind off my worries.” Annemarie hooked her arm around her mother’s elbow and led her into the hall.

Two steps out the door, Mama jerked to a halt and pierced Annemarie with a sharp glare. “Annemarie Kendall, are you out of your mind? It’ll be cold as the Arctic in the workshop. Your fingers will turn to icicles in that wet clay.”

“I’ll get the steam heat going. It’ll warm up in no time.” Annemarie tugged her mother along the hallway until they reached the door at the other end. She pulled her mother into a quick hug, stopping the protest she could see forming behind a fierce frown. “It’s all right, Mama. I promise. I just need to work off some of this restlessness.”

Mama shuddered out a resigned sigh and tweaked Annemarie’s cheek. “So help me, daughter, I’d better find you under the covers and sound asleep when I go down to start breakfast in the morning.”

Annemarie didn’t dare reply, for fear she’d make a promise she couldn’t keep.

An hour later, her sleeves rolled up and an oversized apron covering her from neck to ankles, she sat at the spinning potter’s wheel. She worked more by feel than sight, the cold, wet clay oozing between her fingers like strands of silk. It had become an almost mystical process for her, a blending of faith and artistry, for while her brain hadn’t yet decided the shape or function of her creation, eventually her heart would figure it out.

But now, O Jehovah, thou art our Father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.

What else could she believe, except that somehow her heavenly Father could yet shape the clay of her life—hers and Gilbert’s—into something beautiful?

“
I’m so sorry, Miss Kendall, but Lieutenant Ballard has requested no visitors today.”

Annemarie clamped her teeth together, one gloved fist resting atop the charge nurse’s desk. “Please, I’m his fiancée. It’s been three days now. Would you at least tell him I’m here?”

A regretful frown puckered the gray-haired nurse’s lips. She came from behind her desk and led Annemarie over to the window, out of earshot of others on the floor. “I feel for you, truly I do, but the lieutenant wouldn’t even see his own mother this morning. The only visitor he’ll allow is the chaplain, and even that poor man gets tossed out on his keister when Lieutenant Ballard loses his temper.”

Temper?
In all the years Annemarie had known Gilbert, he’d never been considered a hothead. Forthright, opinionated at times, but always cool under pressure. The mark of a good officer, he’d once told her, a trait he was proud to say he’d inherited from his father.

Annemarie stared across the winter-brown expanse of lawn to the bustling traffic on Reserve Street. Christmas shoppers and the spa clientele were out in full force today, despite the threat of snow and lingering concern over the spread of influenza. What Annemarie wouldn’t give for a glimmer of sunshine and blue skies!

The nurse laid a gentle hand on Annemarie’s arm. “Would you like me to ring you up when Lieutenant Ballard is feeling more himself?”

“Thank you, I’d be very grateful.” Though Annemarie wondered if Gilbert would ever truly be himself again. She cast a worried glance in the direction of the ward before hurrying downstairs.

She made it as far as the lobby before collapsing in tears onto the nearest bench.

“Miss Kendall?”

Startled, she fumbled through her handbag for a handkerchief and swiped at her drippy nose and eyes. “Oh, you’re the nice chaplain, Gilbert’s friend.”

“Samuel Vickary. Though around here I answer to ‘Padre.’” The trim, sandy-haired man nodded toward the empty space beside her. “May I?”

“Of course.” Annemarie forced a shaky smile as he lowered himself onto the bench. “I’m normally not one to be so weepy. I must look a fright.”

“Not at all. You look—” He coughed, or was it nervous laughter? When he spoke again, his voice had dropped to a raspy whisper. “You look fine, truly.”

“I’m sorry not to have thanked you sooner for all you’ve done for Gilbert. I understand you’re staying with the Ballards.”

“They’ve been very kind to offer me rooms.” Another self-conscious chuckle. “I’m not used to living in such finery, not to mention having servants at my beck and call. I telephoned my mother in Fort Wayne yesterday to give her my new address, and now she’s worried I’ll be spoiled beyond redemption.”

Annemarie dried her eyes and tucked the handkerchief into her handbag. “After what you went through over in France, I’m sure you’re quite deserving of a little pampering.”

Neither of them spoke for several seconds. In the silence, Annemarie found her gaze drawn to the way his long, thin fingers splayed across his thighs. He tapped his index fingers in rhythm,
one, two . . . one, two, three
, and stared across the lobby.

Then they both spoke at once.

“Will you see—”

“I understand you’re—”

Laughing behind her gloved hand, Annemarie tried again. “I was just going to ask if you’d see your family at Christmas.”

“My mother is all I have left. She loves to travel and is already making plans to visit me here.”

“How wonderful for you. I can’t imagine how lonely it would be to spend the holidays in an unfamiliar city and so far from your loved ones.” Hearing the words leave her mouth, she lowered her eyes in embarrassment. “But I suppose you already know exactly how it feels.”

Chaplain Vickary sat back with a sigh. “At least I’m back on American soil. Far too many of our soldiers are still left in Europe.”

“But praise God the fighting is over and they’re only there to keep the peace.” Annemarie shifted slightly and cast the chaplain a shy smile. “Your turn. What were you about to ask me?”

“I was just going to say I heard you work at a pottery factory. A family business, I understand?”

“Kendall Pottery Works. My grandfather established the business right after the Civil War.”

“Kendall Pottery?” The chaplain narrowed one eye. “
You’re
the ‘A. Kendall’ whose works are on display at the Arlington?”

Annemarie nodded, her cheeks warming. “Those are pieces I’ve made in my spare time. At the factory we make mainly serviceable items for everyday use.”

“Well, I’m quite impressed. You have a real talent.”

“Thank you.” She pursed her lips and looked away, wishing her father would just once recognize the value of artistry. Surely there was more to life than plain beige bowls and urns. The world was bleak enough.

“Have you always lived in Hot Springs?”

Annemarie beamed. “All my life. I can’t imagine a more beautiful place to grow up.”

“It’s quite a scenic locale, even judging from what little I’ve seen so far.”

“Just wait until you see the mountains in springtime. When the sun rises big and bright and golden at the edge of the bluest sky you’ve ever seen, and the redbuds color the mountainsides in every shade of pink, and tiny new leaves of palest green pop out on every branch—why, words simply can’t describe it!”

Chaplain Vickary grinned, his gray eyes snapping. “I think you just described it perfectly.”

Annemarie’s cheeks flamed again. “I suppose I did go on a bit, didn’t I?” She shifted her gaze to the dreary landscape beyond the windows. “It’s just this whole past year has seemed like one long, endless season of winter. I don’t ever remember being so anxious for spring.”

The sun chose that moment to pierce the clouds with one golden ray. Sucking in a breath, Annemarie rose and went to the window. One hand resting upon the glass, she angled her face to receive the sun’s warmth.

“Spring will come again, you know.” The chaplain stood at her left shoulder. “‘Weeping may tarry for the night, But joy cometh in the morning.’”

“The thirtieth psalm—I know it well. ‘Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing; Thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness.’ I believe it as much as I ever did, but . . .” Annemarie released a shivery breath. “I’m afraid for Gilbert, so afraid for him.”

“I’ve been worried, too.” He seemed about to offer a comforting touch, but just as quickly withdrew his hand and lowered it to his side. He swiveled toward the window. “Looks like the clouds are lifting.”

Annemarie tore her gaze away from his somber profile and glanced out at the brightening sky. “Perhaps a walk would do us both good. Chaplain Vickary, would you care for a personally guided tour of downtown Hot Springs?”

The chaplain cast her an uncertain glance. “Are you sure it would be proper?”

“To familiarize my fiancé’s closest friend with his new surroundings? What could be considered improper about that?”

“Then I can’t think of a more delightful way to spend an afternoon.” The chaplain offered Annemarie his arm. “But only if you will also consider me a friend and call me Samuel.”

“Samuel it is,” she said, linking her arm through his. “But won’t you need your overcoat?”

“Not if we stay on the sunny side of the street.” He arched a brow and nodded toward the exit. “Shall we?”

Lightness rose in Annemarie’s breast. She smiled up at the chaplain—no, at her new friend Samuel. “Let’s!”