Love's Sweet Melody Read online

  When he came abreast of the table, he smiled, showing off two rows of even, pearly-white teeth. "You must be Elizabeth."

  She nodded, doing her best to keep her wits about her. He was handsome, but she had absolutely no interest in speaking to him, or any man other than Warner.

  "I'm Bradley Mangum. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss." He bowed low, lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it.

  "Likewise." She swallowed, hoping to rid herself of some of her annoyance. He seemed to be waiting for a further reaction from her, but that was all she had. I imagine women fall at his feet on a regular basis.

  He stood again but maintained his hold on her hand. "Would you honor me with a dance?"

  She heard the sound of someone clearing their throat and glanced over to see her mother nodding vigorously and flailing as if she were hailing an imaginary taxicab.

  She looked back to Bradley. "Sure."

  As he led her out onto the dance floor, she did her best to mind her manners. Yet, even as he spun her around the reception hall, her mind stayed locked on Warner.

  -Stormy Weather-

  A THUNDERSTORM ROLLED into Fox Den Saturday evening, bringing with it heavy rain and howling winds. Alone in his small house, Warner tucked himself into an armchair with a copy of the Fox Den Courier. Under the glow of the lamp, he read through the local happenings, doing his best to ignore the storm raging outside. Wrapped in an old quilt to ward off the chill that often fell over the house in bad weather, he shifted around, trying to get comfortable.

  The old house seemed to rattle in the high winds, and he jumped. Unwrapping himself from the quilt, he walked over to the window to look outside. The nearby streetlight cast a circle of light, illuminating the otherwise inky darkness, letting him see the rain falling sideways and the puddles forming on the asphalt. He could also see the trees, their branches dancing and swaying in the wind.

  Sighing, he returned to his chair. He was a full grown man, not a child afraid of storms. Yet, he still hated nights like this. The gloomy weather always seemed to inspire a similarly gloomy mood in him. He knew his best bet for enduring the weather was to get to sleep.

  Standing by the chair, he folded his newspaper and dropped it on the low coffee table. Yawning, he made his way to his bedroom, hoping the falling rain would lull him to sleep. As tired as he was, he didn't think it would take very long.

  Lying beneath the covers, he stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rain, waiting for rest to come.

  As his eyes began to drift closed, a flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by an angry boom of thunder.

  The sound was so loud and so sudden he nearly fell out of bed. Clutching the mattress, he dragged himself into a sitting position.

  Another boom followed.

  His heart pounded.

  It's only a thunderstorm, logic told him.

  But the darkness lurking in the corners of his mind said otherwise.

  His commander's voice. We're taking fire!

  Panzer units surrounding us!

  Anti-tank rounds!

  Another boom.

  He jumped, dragged the covers over his head.

  Take cover!

  Sweat poured down his face as he launched himself over the side of the bed and slid beneath it.

  Dust swirled around him, and he sneezed.

  BOOM!

  The house shook.

  In his mind, he was pinned down by enemy fire. He could hear the whistling sound of their artillery, cutting through the air, raining fiery, ghastly death down on his position.

  He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut.

  No. No. No!

  A familiar scent touched his nostrils.

  Lilacs.

  He opened his eyes slowly. Felt the soft fabric of something against his face.

  The sheets? No, that wasn't it. He fumbled in the darkness, taking in more of the smell with each breath.

  Then he remembered.

  Betty's perfume.

  He hadn't been able to find the shirt he'd been wearing that day at the schoolyard, and had missed taking it to the laundry. I must have kicked it under the bed.

  The sweet floral scent of her still clung to the fabric, and he grasped it, squeezing it between his fingers. Somehow, it helped him get his bearings, helped him ground himself in reality.

  And for the first time in two days, he didn't push away the thoughts of her. He let the memory of her smile, her laugh, and her kiss swirl around him.

  The storm raged on. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled. Fat raindrops pelted the house like pebbles. The wind howled and hissed.

  Yet thinking of her calmed him, took the edge off the painful memories of the horror he'd seen over there. Wriggling out from beneath his bed, he brought the shirt to his face and inhaled deeply. He continued breathing in her scent until the shaking in his limbs subsided and he felt more stable.

  Then he climbed back into his bed, draping the shirt over the headboard.

  It was possible she might never speak to him again. And that might be for the best.

  But for tonight, as he closed his eyes, he hoped to dream of a life with her by his side. A life where they could live together in harmony, where her love would be the balm that helped to heal the wounds of his past.

  Come morning, he would act, to bring her light back into his world. He would begin with a visit to her father’s office, where he would show his respect, and the integrity of his intentions.

  Dr. Daniels and I will have much to discuss.

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  Chapter 9

  -Look with Your Heart-

  Betty sat by the piano Monday, running through some of her usual pieces. Try as she might, she just couldn't seem to get into the right headspace with her music today. Love of music had kept her going through some of the most troubling times of her life. When she'd learned of her grandfather's death, she'd played through her grief. When she'd seen her first crush with another girl, she'd run home to the piano to get over the cutting pain of rejection. And she'd hoped to salve her broken heart today by playing.

  Alas, even her favorite songs seemed hollow now. It was as if the music had somehow lost its melody. She played it as best she could, but it didn't even sound the same to her as it usually did. Apparently, the people who'd come to eat in the dining room noticed the difference as well. Tips were paltry at best, and she noticed diners weren't lingering over their meals.

  She ended a song and took a sip from her water glass as a smattering of half-hearted applause spread through the room. With a sigh, she shuffled through her sheet music, looking for her next piece.

  Ruby appeared to her right, leaning on the edge of the piano. "Betty, what's wrong with you? Are you unwell?"

  So Ruby has noticed it, too. She shook her head. "No, Ruby, I'm fine."

  Ruby's brow cocked. "Honey, please. I've known you long enough to know better. Besides, you're a terrible liar. Now, what's eating you?"

  She paused, thinking of the best way to say it aloud. "I went to my cousin's wedding Saturday. Let's just say the nuptials left me feeling a little melancholy." It was the truth, or at least, part of it.

  "I see." A knowing look came over Ruby's face, as she lowered her voice. "I understand how hard it can be to watch other people get something you want for yourself."

  Betty's eyes widened. "I...well, I'm not sure I want...that."

  Ruby simply smiled.

  "Even if I did want to be married, I see no such future prospects for myself."

  "Is that so?"

  "What?"

  "I notice Warner hasn't been here in a little bit. Why don't you reach out to him?"

  She shook her head. "Ruby, I can't. He hasn't spoken to me in days, and I'm sure he wants to forget I exist." That's why he hasn't been coming in for lunch. He's avoiding me.

  I can't approach Warner. I have to give him space. He feels I betrayed him, and in a way, he's right.

  "I don't know what happened betwee
n you, and you don't have to tell me." Ruby cocked her head to one side. "

  "I blew it, Ruby. I went behind his back, thinking I was helping him. Really, I should have spoken to him about it before I acted."

  "So, you're just going to give up?"

  She threw up her hands. "He doesn't want to see me. I'm not going to humiliate myself chasing after someone who doesn't want me."

  Ruby gave her a sidelong glance as she straightened back to a standing position. "You need love in your life, Betty. We all do."

  She didn't respond, because what could she say? She could see the truth in Ruby's words as plainly as she could see the sheet music on the stand. But how could she salvage her connection with Warner now, after everything that had happened?

  "The best place to find love is often right under your own nose. Look with your heart- it sees way better than your eyes." With that said, Ruby turned and walked away.

  Someone entered the dining room, but she didn't look up to see who.

  She didn't need to. She felt a shift in the air, and the familiarity of his presence washed over her like warm sunlight.

  Warner.

  She could smell him: the combined scent of some woodsy cologne and a few drops of motor oil. She would never have expected such an aroma to arouse her senses this way, and yet, here she was. This man made her feel things she hadn't even thought herself capable of.

  Knowing she needed to fill the silence that had developed while she'd been talking to her manager, Betty hurriedly began playing the piece at the front of her sheet music stash.

  Incidentally, it was a beautiful love song: "O Soave Fanciulla" from Puccini's La Boheme. The piece represented a high moment of emotion in the classic Italian opera, as the two main characters, seamstress Mimi and poet Rodolfo, sing it together at the moment they realize they've fallen in love.

  She couldn't meet his eyes, not if she were to play the piece as it deserved to be played. So she kept her eyes on the keys as she moved her fingertips over them, letting the beautiful harmonies of the piece carry her away. The soaring highs of love expressed by Rodolfo and Mimi had always represented a glorious impossibility; an idyllic dream of something she could never have. But now, simply being in Warner's presence, she knew better.

  The piece wasn't a long one, the composer meant for it to be brief, but powerful. And it was. Because with Warner's smiling face visible in her peripheral vision, Betty played it as she never had before, infusing it with all the emotion it was meant to hold. The feelings she now felt deep inside.

  When she ended the song, the seven diners present burst into applause. A few even stopped by the piano to leave tips in her glass. She gave them each a nod of gratitude, but she only had eyes for Warner.

  Now that she could see him fully, she noticed the bouquet of pink roses he carried.

  Tears threatened to rise as she watched him move slowly toward the piano. She'd longed to see him again ever since he'd walked away from her in the alley that day; dreaming of him, weeping for him. Now, there he was, in the flesh, and her rising emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

  "Oh Lovely Girl. Puccini- right?" He placed the flowers on the piano.

  She nodded. "I see you know your operatic music."

  "I do."

  A few silent moments passed between them, as they held each other's gazes.

  Aware of all the people watching, she said, "Would you like to talk in private?"

  "I would."

  Ruby's voice cut into their conversation. "Why don't you take a break in the lounge, Betty? After a performance like that, you oughta rest your hands."

  Betty extended her hand to Warner, and the two of them walked down the corridor to the lounge.

  As the door swung shut behind them, Ruby called, "I'll see that you're not disturbed."

  -Light to Banish the Darkness-

  ALONE IN THE ROOM WITH Betty, Warner held her hand tightly. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, and she looked as if she had a lot to say. He kept himself silent for a few moments, to allow her the space to gather her thoughts.

  She wiggled her hand free, walking across the room. He watched her as she paced the floor.

  She'd worn a dress in a soft shade of pink today, that made her complexion glow as if she were bathed in moonlight. The loose curls of her dark hair, held back from her face by a matching ribbon, shone in the light cast by the fixture above them. She looked as feminine and soft as he knew her to be, and her face, though lined with deep thought, remained as lovely as ever.

  What's going through her mind right now? Curiosity be damned, he swore he wouldn't press her. He'd come to see if she would allow him into her life again after he'd been so pigheaded. She was a delicate lady, not someone to be trifled with or treated harshly. In spite of his own discomfort, he stood there, silent and still, while she worked through whatever it was.

  Finally, she stopped pacing near the big desk in the corner. "I have to tell you something. A lot of things, actually. I'm just so afraid that it will come out wrong."

  He kept his tone even. "Betty, just say what's on your heart. " It was what he planned to do if she'd hear him out.

  She took a deep breath, and let the words tumble out. "Warner. I'm so, so sorry. I should never have gone to Dr. Freeman without speaking to you about it first. And I don't think you're broken, at least not any more than the next man who's been through something so terrible. You're many things. You're witty, charming, handsome, and wise. But you're certainly not broken." She drew a breath.

  He gave her a half-smile, equally touched and amused by her admissions. "Is that all you want to say, or is there more?"

  "There is more. Remember at the schoolyard, when you told me you loved me, and I didn't say anything back?" She moved toward him, her steps purposeful as he re-entered his personal space.

  "It's not something that's easy to forget."

  "Part of me was so stunned that you'd said it, I didn't know how to react. But there were other things holding me back that day."

  "Like what?" He asked the question in a gentle voice, trying not to alarm her. He wanted to hear what she had to say.

  "I love you, Warner. I do. I was so afraid of what loving you could mean, that I couldn't admit it to anyone, not even myself." She raised her free hand to his face, caressing the hard line of his jaw and feeling it soften beneath her touch. "Now I know I'm willing to take the risk if it means I can be with you."

  He lay his hand over hers. "That's the best thing I've heard all day."

  "Then you're not still angry with me?"

  He shook his head. "I was never really angry with you, Betty. I lashed out at you, and I shouldn't have. In reality, I was wounded, hurt, and afraid my personal battles would become a matter of public discussion." He paused, thinking he should tell her how this whole thing began. "Do you know why I started coming here for lunch in the first place?"

  She shook her head. Curiosity shone in her eyes as she watched his face, awaiting his explanation.

  "Several months ago, I went to Mrs. Albertson's to drop off my laundry. As I passed the hotel, I heard the beautiful music you were playing. I rushed over there to drop off my clothes, then came back and looked through the window into the dining room. And there you were." He touched her soft cheek. "The most beautiful creature I've ever seen, playing music that soothed my soul. The anger and pain I felt inside seemed to ease every time I listened to your music. So I made a habit of taking my lunch here."

  Her wide eyes gave away her amazement. "Truly?"

  "Yes. You've comforted me in ways you'll never know, and I'm eternally grateful for the peace you've given me."

  Her misty eyes welled up with fat tears. "I don't know what to say."

  He brushed his fingertips over the edge of her hairline. "You've told me you love me, and that's enough. Besides, I owe you an apology as well. I should have been more open with you, more honest about what I'm going through. Then maybe you wouldn't have felt you needed to go behind my ba
ck to seek help for me."

  She looked away momentarily. "Warner, you don't have to tell me about..."

  He used a gentle finger to angle her head so that he could look into her eyes. "Yes, Betty, I do. I do need to tell you about the things that haunt me as well as the things that make me smile. If I'm to love you fully, the way you deserve to be loved, I have to be willing to bare my soul to you." He dragged his fingertip over her lips. "And I want you to feel safe enough to bare your soul to me as well."

  She inched closer to him, leaving only a sliver of space between their bodies.

  She nodded. "Yes, Warner. I trust you."

  "And I trust you, Betty. I trust your judgment, and I trust that you want what's best for me."

  "Does that mean you'll go to see Dr. Freeman and talk about what you've been through?" Her gaze, pensive and hopeful, touched his very core.

  Wanting nothing more than to hold her close to him, he draped his arm loosely around her waist. "Of course. All I ask is that you go with me." He gave her a squeeze, pressing their bodies together. "I need you there with me. It's your light that guides me out of darkness."

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Oh, Warner. I will. Of course, I will."

  She tilted her face up, and their lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss.

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  Chapter 10

  Thursday, November 28, 1946

  Thanksgiving Day

  -Giving Thanks-

  Tying the strings of her white, lace trimmed apron, Betty picked up her dishes walked into the bustling kitchen. Walking to the sink, she deposited her china plate and fork into the soapy water and scrubbed them clean before adding them to the dishes stacked in the rack on the counter.

  Myrtle came in a few moments later. "Oh, Betty, good. You've finished your breakfast?"

  She nodded. "Yes, Mama. I already washed my dishes."

  "Then can you help me chop celery and onions for the dressing?"

  "Sure." The two of them set up the cutting boards and vegetables on one of the few cleared spaces on the countertop. Betty worked on celery while her mother handled the onions. "Where's aunt Mary Alice?"