I offer my hand once more. We both look at her purple dress and heels.
“What do you think?”
“Pretty. But I preferred the nightgown.”
She swats my chest with the nightgown, and I chuckle, grab it, about to bend for the suitcase.
“No! I said I don’t want you to see!” She takes the nightgown back and swirls her finger, gesturing for me to turn around. “Don’t look down!”
As soon as I hear the buckles fasten I ask, “How ‘bout now?”
“Yes, you can turn around now.” We walk to the hotel, me with a suitcase in each hand as she confides, “I haven’t been to Atlanta since I was little! I so loved it here. There was an enormous park I hoped I’d visit again. Do they still have Piedmont Park?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure. But I’ve got a hankering to find out. Uh oh.”
We stop in front of the hotel, and May asks, “What is it?”
“Looks like it’s locked. Pretty dark in there, too.”
“There’s one lamp.”
“Probably leave that on all night. I’m sorry, May, I didn’t figure on it being closed. Not in a big city.”
She smiles, “Why don’t we sleep in the car? I was able to. It will be morning in a few hours. Oh, I will need to use the washroom. Especially if we’re to be married tomorrow?”
Disturbed at our prospects I rub my chin, staring at the sidewalk and mutter, “That’s the plan.”
“Well perhaps… Oh look! There’s someone!”
My head pops up, and I lean closer to give the window a good knock.
A grey-haired man blinks at us, and hurries over to unlock the door. “Can I help you?”
I set down May’s suitcase, shake his hand and explain, “Yes hello! I’m awful sorry to bother you but my wife and I have driven in from Norfolk, Virginia and we misjudged the time. Afraid I assumed wrongly that your establishment might still be open. I don’t suppose you would make an exception?”
His eyes narrow with suspicion. “What were you doing in Norfolk?”
“Just getting back from the war, sir.”
“Oh?”
“Yes sir, Jerald Cocker, Petty Officer Second Class, submarine planesman, at your service.”
His eyes brighten over a warm smile. “Chief Petty Officer Walter Gibbons, USNS Allegiant.” We shake hands enthusiastically, and he widens the door to let us enter, locking it again as he says, “Wounded in World War I, but I sure would’ve liked to have joined you fellas in this one. You put up one heck of a fight.”
“No doubt about that, sir!”
He walks behind the front desk, and she and I are on the other side, “I watched the news about Normandy, thinking, my, that’s something else! And what’s your pretty wife’s name?”
Her answer comes easily, blue eyes shining with pride, “I’m May Cocker, it’s very nice to meet you.”
44
MAY
Walter shows us to our room. Jerald stands by, listening to war stories while I walk around a small, cozy space that gives me all sorts of nervous tingles.
There is only one bed.
“Our battleship was shot at beyond account, but I don’t have to tell you that that didn’t stop us! They retired it. She lasted just long enough to get us home.”
“Our sub was retired too. From what I hear, there are new designs in the works. We steered by wheel, but it seems they’re changing that.”
“Only one constant in life,” Walter sighs, “Change.” They shake hands. “Good meeting you.”
“And you as well, sir.”
He gives me a polite wave, and disappears, door lightly clicking behind him.
Jerald runs confident fingers into his curls, looking at me from the corner of his eyes. He does a quick scan of the room, sliding his hands in his pockets. “I gather you’re nervous.”
A laugh I don’t recognize bubbles out. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re wringing your hands, and bouncing on your heels. I for one am happy to see you alone.”
“Yes…we are awfully alone, aren’t we?”
He kicks the carpet with his heel. “Yes we are. But this isn’t really any different from the picnic, if you think about it.” He looks at me, dazzling green eyes shining with amusement.
I’m silently wishing I had called Lily for advice. I don’t know what to do when I’m alone with a boy. But Lily and Peter have made it. Sable spilled the beans on that.
I should’ve asked for advice!
What was I thinking, leaving the subject private? We girls need to help each other.
There’s a warble in my voice as I ask, “This is like the picnic? How do you figure?”
With his elbow, Jerald Cocker, the man who wrote me one-hundred and twenty-one beautiful letters, points to the bed. “There’s a blanket, isn’t there?”
I laugh, and this time it sounds like my own laughter, not some nervous weirdo.
He strolls over to me, so handsome it takes my breath away. Especially as he drops to one knee. “May, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” I can’t stop smiling, and I can’t speak. He takes my hand, voice huskier, “I liked the way it sounded when you said you were May Cocker. That sounded just fine.”
He swoops me up like I’m standing on air, legs dangling. Felt like I was floating anyhow. Might as well make it official.
He’s staring at my lips, the suspense brutal.
My heart, tummy, and between my legs, all have butterflies. “Are you going to kiss me or aren’t you?”
Jerald’s mouth is instantly on mine, his kiss driven by the desperation of a boy who thought he might not make it out of that war alive.
I return my sailor’s kisses with equal passion. His tongue touches mine lightly, or it digs like he can’t get close enough to me, and we keep switching, basking in how good it feels to kiss the person we
