“Tell me a story from the war.” His expression goes dark, so I hasten to add, “It doesn’t have to be a bad story. How about something fun that happened on your submarine?”
That does the trick. “Well now, keeping to the subject of pets, I could tell you about Ferdinand.” He glances up. “That hat sure does suit you.” With my mouthful I smile. “Ferdinand is a cockroach.”
I gasp a muffled, “Oh!”
Pleased at giving me a shock, Jerald continues, “You see, Ferdinand lives in the bread drawer. Every time we go in, there he is waving at us. We tell him, Hey Ferdinand, throw up a slice, would ya?”
Covering my mouth, I laugh.
Jerald tears off another piece, placing meat and cheese on it while he continues, “One of my buddies, Todd, named him and well, the boys and I don’t know what life would be like without old Ferdinand!”
“There is only ever one cockroach?”
“That’s right. Ferdinand doesn’t like anyone moseying in on his territory.” Jerald takes a big bite.
“My father would get a kick out of that.” We eat in silence a while, staring at each other and breaking into smiles for no reason other than it’s unusual to be looking at someone for this long. “Jerald, is it too forward of me to say that I’m going to miss you?“
He loses the smile. “I hope you do. You will write to me, won’t you?”
“Can I? I wasn’t sure I could. How does one get mail on a submarine?”
He frowns, “You can’t. But it will be held at base for me. I can send letters to you only when I’m on land.”
“How often is that?”
“We dock every thirty days or so to restock supplies. But at war, we don’t always know where.”
“So you’ll send me letters from all over the world?”
“When I’m able, yes.”
The heaviness of his meaning is felt deep in my heart. “I will write to you, Jerald. I promise.”
“Just want to warn you, all mail has to be opened to prevent classified information from getting into enemy hands.”
“You mean somebody will read my letters?”
“Afraid so. But you won’t let that stop you, will you?”
I shake my head. “Nothing could stop me.”
Jeralds smiles, picks up his knife and slices the mangled cherry pie. “Grab one of those plates, would you?”
23
JERALD
T hunderstorms in Georgia come fast, we’re no strangers to them. When the clouds turn gun-metal grey, May and I pack up right quick. While I fold the blanket, she holds the basket. Relieving her of it as soon as I can, I take her hand, blanket under my other arm so we can make a run for it.
Lightning strikes a tree up ahead, splitting it down the center. May screams.
I yell, “You alright?”
Over a cacophonous thunder-crack, she shouts back, “Never seen one hit that close!”
“Me neither!”
We get to my car, and I can’t believe it, but I left the top down.
My hair is plastered to my face.
She’s still wearing my hat, raindrops cascading from the brim.
Her smile, in spite of all of this, is still there, and she is absolutely beautiful.
I drop the basket and the blanket, take her face in my hands, and kiss her with all my might. This is like no kiss I’ve ever given.
My heart is in it.
I never knew it was absent until it showed up and smacked me in the head when I met May.
A fresh roar of thunder breaks us apart, and I realize that she lost my hat mid-kiss. She’s gazing at me, smile growing before she asks, “Care to swim home?”
“Thought we might float in this.” I jog my chin to the car.
May laughs, eyelashes fluttering to help her see. Heck, every part of her is dripping now. So I should be getting her home.
I lift her up and plunk her on the seat, not bothering with the door. Snatching the basket and blanket first, I plant them in the back, and grab my hat last, clapping it on my head while May grins at me like there’s no rush. I leap over and slide into the driver seat.
She yells, “All aboard!” snatches my hat and puts it on her head. “Didn’t you hear me say I’m keeping this?”
I laugh, dig out my keys, and holler, “Hot dog!” as the engine starts.
The car lurches, but the tires gain no traction. I look over my shoulder and try again. “Uh oh!” Jumping out I call to her, “Get behind the wheel!”
May scrambles to my seat, holds on and looks to me for direction.
“Okay! Hit the gas!”
“Which one is the gas?”
“The pedal on the right!”
She puts her weight on it, tires fighting the mud. I use every ounce of muscle I’ve got to push while the rain pelts me like it’s got a vendetta.
I can hear May’s voice, but can’t make out a word. One more shove and the tires break free.
She screams, “Jerald, help!”
I cup my hands to shout, “Take your foot off the gas! Keep the wheel straight!” I sprint after her, and the vehicle slows enough for me to grab on, climb over the back, slipping and sliding as I hop into the passenger seat, leaning to take the wheel. “Atta girl!”
With more direction, together we manage to stop the car.
Laughing the whole time, May and I jump out, run around, nearly bang into each other, and hop back into our rightful seats.
As I steer toward the center of the road, May asks, “Will you teach me how to drive someday?”
“Think I just did!”
“For real, sometime?”
I look over and hold her gaze. “That’s a promise.”
“Haven’t seen a thunderstorm like this in a while!”
“Guess we got lucky!”
Arriving back in town I glance to her, “I couldn’t hear you back there, when I was pushing us out of the mud. What were you saying right before we got free?”
“I was praying.”
“That hat sure does look better on you than
