“You could never do such a thing. I—I just have to admit, I didn’t think this would be as hard as it is.”
“Well, changing the world for the better, there’s nothing easy about it, but you’re leading the way for other strong women, Elizabeth, and with all the other thoughts of discontentment and sadness put to the side, look at how far you’ve come to get to this moment. Your mother would stand here with her shoulders straight and pride glistening through her eyes that match yours. You are succeeding at something women for generations will come to know you for. You will be their guiding light and you’ll show them they can reach for the stars and grab them all.”
His words are the reason I’m here. His words have been constant thoughts since Mom passed away. If I don’t leave my footprint behind for Mom and me, I will have wasted a perfectly good life.
Everett is quiet for the few minutes it takes to move across the terminal. As the gate unfurls into sight, my stomach drops lower and lower. “Was it worth it?” I ask. I’m not sure if he understands what I’m asking, but I’m having trouble coming up with the right words to explain myself.
Everett takes me by the wrist and stops me from walking forward. “Did you just ask me if ‘it’ was worth it?” I nod in agreement. “If the ‘it’ you are referring to is ‘you,’ Elizabeth, then I refuse to answer such a question.” Maybe he doesn’t intend to answer me, but it doesn’t appear he plans to release his grip either. “You know what, no, if you need an answer, I’ll give you one.” He swallows hard and shakes his head with frustration crinkling into fine lines on his forehead. “From the second you almost took an entire aisle of shelving units down at the commissary and I turned the corner to see this beautiful mess of a girl trying to fix her mistake, I knew there was something special about you. It’s why I came up to you while you were waiting at the checkout counter. You drew me in, and I may never know why, but I’m sure glad I followed my gut. Heck, I’m even glad I got this scar on my face a week later because it meant you got to stick a needle and thread into my Hollywood profile.” Only Everett could bring humor to a moment like this. “You have been worth every single second I have spent on this island, every horrific minute endured over the last couple months, every sleepless night when I couldn’t be with you, and every moment you stole my breath when I was with you. If you were to walk away from me right here, right now with a forever goodbye, I’d still say it was worth it.”
I can’t cry. If I pop that cork, it will be a mess of an explosion in the middle of the airport. “Everett,” I say, trying to interrupt him from saying anything more that will make me break.
“But then I’ll go outside with the rest of your family and cry like a child who dropped his ice cream cone on a hot day.”
I snicker, pushing the tears back for another quick second. “Will we both come back home?” Neither of us can answer this question, but I need him to lie right now.
“Yes, Lizzie, we’re both coming home from this. And until then, when you need me, you can look up to the sky and find a cloud that represents the sign or reassurance you’re looking for because that’ll be the same cloud I will be flying through at that same moment. If you look hard enough, you’ll see me waving.” He’s awfully good at this goodbye and I am failing on holding up my end.
“Well, please just watch where you’re going and no loop-de-loops like you tell me about. Oh, and if you end up lost somehow, don’t go flying to the moon without me or anything. That’s not part of your job,” I remind him—the man with eyes set out to see this world from space while settling for a spot within the clouds.
“I won’t go to the moon with you, baby.”
Finally, we’re both smiling. We’re both masking the pain with words neither can promise, but it’s what we need. “That’s fair, but if I got rules, so do you. Don’t pick fights with someone you can’t take and keep some of your thoughts to yourself. Just some, okay, doll?”
I hold out my other hand to shake on the deal, and he takes my hand and pulls me in against his chest. His palms cup my cheeks, and he leans down ever so slowly, as snaillike as this last week has gone, and gently touches his lips to mine. I inhale the memory and the scent of his love, knowing something this strong will never fade away. “I love you,” he whispers against my lips.
“Always,” I murmur.
“And forever … Don’t forget that part,” he says.
“Of course, I won’t forget.”
Everett reaches into his pocket and pulls out a photograph I took early last summer. “I have this for you—put this in your journal and don’t read the words on the back unless you are sure the worst has come for us and you are desperate for a reminder of why you’re doing what you’re doing.” The photograph is my favorite of him. We were at the beach. The wind was blowing like crazy and the sun was illuminating his eyes. It was a perfect moment to capture.
“I love this picture,” I say, forcing my eyes to part with the reminder of a wonderful moment.“I have one for you too with a little note in case you need a reminder of how much I love you in between letters and phone calls.”
I retrieve the small envelope from the front of my pocketbook and hand it to him, showing off the kiss mark I left on the flap.
He holds it up to his nose and closes his eyes. “Your perfume—you—you are just perfect.”
33
January 1942
The paperswith my orders contained a bus number to locate once I arrived in Boston. I’m unsure if the bus is only for Fort Devens personnel or if I will arrive somewhere near Fort Devens. There isn’t any further information other than the mode of transportation. Maybe I’ll be able to catch a few minutes of sleep on this bus because I feel as though I have been traveling for two days straight and could not nap on the plane. The chatter from the surrounding seats never ceased, even from the dark hours to the moment the morning sun peeked over the horizon.
I spent most of my hours staring out the window, feeling grateful I wasn’t sitting between the other two men in my row of seats. The clouds held my unwavering focus as I realized how much closer I felt to mom. I know heaven isn’t in the clouds, but I found a small sense of comfort while looking out at the white fog, wondering if she could see me from the other side. I imagined skipping along the balls of white cotton and watching the world spin below.
Several times, I reached into my purse to retrieve my journal, wanting to write, but each time, I realized I was at a loss for words. I have only seen the clouds and a swarm of people occupying seats around me and no one communicating with me since I left home. I think it was the newfound sense of loneliness that left me with nothing but empty thoughts, paper, and a pen.
While waiting for the bus to depart from the airport, I glance around, spotting more empty seats than filled ones. No one appears to be looking for a conversation. Everyone is quiet and either reading a paper, book, or staring out the window. In Oahu, it’s hard to find someone who isn’t eager to start a conversation with anyone on the street. It could be as mundane as the temperature of the ocean, but there is no shortage of people to keep one from feeling alone.
I pull my wool coat tighter over my chest, feeling a draft move down the aisle. I noticed the snow-covered landscape while landing. From above, it looked more like a white blanket covering the state of Massachusetts. It’s the first time I’ve seen snow, and it’s as beautiful as I imagined. However, it is much colder than I imagined too.
The hum of the bus motor and the silence between the seats allows me the comfort to close my eyes for a bit. According to my map, we are forty miles away from Fort Devens. I can assume the bus might take a while to arrive. What’s another couple of hours of travel after coming this far?
The accordion door squeals and moans as the driver pulls the crank. Finally, we’ll be on our way. A bit of commotion stirs among the first few rows of seats, and before I have the chance to open my eyes, the seat beside me becomes occupied by a person trying to catch their ragged breaths.
“I did not think I was going to make it. Lord almighty.”
