In his hands, p.2
In His Hands, page 2
“I don’t need ‘mommy reassurance’,” Betsy had said with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter how good a teacher I am… men don’t care about that. I know I’ll never be as svelte and gorgeous as Jane. I’ve tried but no matter how much I diet, I am still chubby.”
“If you wish me to be honest, your lack of a relationship isn’t because of your appearance. Men appreciate a bit of softness in their lives. No, honey, it is because you are too young to act so old. You spend more time making sure others enjoy their lives than living your own. Instead of feeling as if you have to fix the lives of anyone you know, stop dispensing advice to all your friends and take mine. Go out and meet people… young folks. Let them know the sweet girl who is my daughter and I promise that you will find the love you deserve.”
Betsy had thought that was what she had been doing in her pen-pal correspondence. She groaned with the realization that Jane was right—she was a fuddy-duddy! It was obvious that while she was glad she’d been able to help these men get through what had to be some of the darkest hours of their lives, she could have been an eighty-year-old granny writing the same letters. Of course, if she were a granny, that would mean she’d at least have experienced some passion in her life.
Sighing deeply, she spent the next hour writing back to her pen-pals, tucking a hand-made card from her students into each letter. Her little pupils adored drawing cute pictures and writing words of encouragement to the soldiers overseas. Betsy congratulated George on his engagement while trying not to allow the ridiculous resentment of Sherry’s happiness show in her response. She wished him the very best and knew she’d never write to him again.
Her emotions were all over the place. How could the words from a stranger meant for another have her heart aching? What would it be like to have a man care for you so deeply that he felt not only the need but the right to chastise you for what he considered naughtiness? While she wasn’t one to be free with her affections, neither was she a total innocent. She’d gone on her share of dates and had even kissed a few, yet had never felt the urge to give into their desire to go further. She’d certainly never allowed a man to caress her breasts! Then how could it be that simply reading ink on a piece of paper had her wondering what Mr. Bossy’s—no, make that Jack’s—hands on her bare flesh would feel like? “Betsy Riddle, you should be ashamed of yourself!” she softly chided. It was clear she was ignoring her own words when her next thought was that she still would like to discover the answer… even if it was her bottom he was caressing.
With another look over her shoulder as Jane called out that she was leaving, Betsy read the return address on the most recent letter and then reached for the box Jane had left on the table. Thumbing through the disorganized pile of letters, she retrieved any that bore the name of Major Jackson Novak. A little voice told her that what she was about to do could be considered invasion of her best friend’s privacy. Another little voice, which appeared far bolder, reassured her that Jane’s gift of Mr. Bossy would include learning all she could about him. How else was she to do that without reading every word he’d written? It took her a half-hour to read through the letters, watching a budding relationship grow with each one. However, it did appear that Jack was far more interested in a future with Jane than she with him and yet even that scenario didn’t fit right. It was like Jane had said. The man seemed to be more of a big brother than a possible suitor. He always thanked her for her wishes he remain safe from harm and, as the months had passed, began to gently and then more firmly chastise her for what he considered activities that could cause her harm.
Pushing those thoughts aside for a moment, Betsy began a list of what seemed to be Jack’s interests… well, those other than her roommate’s proclivities for fun. She smiled to learn he was a huge fan of baseball. He was also from Texas and, wow, seemed to have a huge family. He spoke about his siblings and the ranch where they’d grown up in the hill country outside of Austin. A vague memory of sending cookies and Christmas cards to all her pen-pals and some of Jane’s flashed through her head. Had Jack been one of those recipients? After finishing the letters, she took several minutes to think about what she was considering. While her pen-pals were good men, suddenly they seemed like boys. She didn’t particularly care that Jack was a major, but he sounded so much more mature. Did she really want to correspond with a man who seemed much sterner than her usual soldiers? Her rapid pulse told her the answer and after replacing the envelopes into the box, she retreated to her bedroom, dug in her desk drawer and returned to the kitchen. Opening the gift she’d received for Christmas from her grandmother, she smiled at the scent of lilacs that wafted up from the pale purple paper. Taking out the first sheet, she began to write.
Dear Jack,
I come to you with mixed emotions as well. I confess that your last letter has caused me to think about the path my life is taking. I’m sorry that you don’t approve of my behavior…
“Geez Louise, girl, that is about as boring as the price of soy beans,” Betsy mumbled to herself as she crumpled the sheet and tossed it into the trash. Remembering what Jane had said about the fact that these were men first and soldiers second, she pulled a fresh piece of paper from the stationery box. By the time she’d written a letter that might be acceptable, there were three additional balls of purple paper in the bin.
Did she really dare send this one? What would Jack think of her reply and, God forbid, what would her mother think? Imagining both her mother’s advice and the fun that Jane was even now having on her date with Joe, Betsy straightened in her chair, folded the paper in half and slipped it into a matching purple envelope. She licked the three-cent stamp and then gathered up all the letters she’d completed. Afraid that she’d lose her courage if she simply put the letter into the box on their porch and raised the flag, she slipped on her shoes and walked down several blocks to where the large community mailbox stood. She hesitated for just a moment, feeling a sudden surge of guilt at her deception but then, remembering Jane’s statement she was ‘giving’ Mr. Bossy to her, she allowed the envelopes to drop from her hand. It was too late now. And besides, Jack Novak was halfway around the world, and letters were known to be lost in transit, and even if it did arrive in his hands, maybe he’d choose not to respond.
Walking back home, she could hear the sound of the nightly newscast coming from the open windows of the houses she passed. Glancing at her watch, she hurried her steps. Once back home, she flipped on the radio and straightened the living room a bit as it warmed up. If she couldn’t be on a date with a real man, at least she could listen to the Bing Crosby Show. She listened to the tail end of the latest newscast about the war efforts and made a mental note to purchase another war bond the next time she went to the bank. As Bing crooned his songs, she carefully and meticulously set her hair in row after row of pin-curls. Applying her Pond’s cold cream to her face, she listened intently to one of her favorite programs, The Adventures of Ellery Queen. When it was over, she turned the radio off, kicked off her slippers and climbed into her bed. In her letter, she’d asked Jack if he preferred to listen to the radio or read a book. Of course, she hadn’t been brave enough to mention her current reading choice. Opening her nightstand drawer, she pulled out Lady Chatterley’s Lover and began to read. However, within two pages, she put the book aside. For the first time, Oliver was not doing anything for her. Instead, all she could think about was a man named Jack Novak.
Turning onto her side, her hand tucked under her pillow, she drifted into sleep. Her dreams placed her on the lap of a certain Army major whose arms were wrapped tightly around her. Softly whispered words assured her that though she’d been a naughty girl, she was his girl. Her hand slipped from beneath her pillow to rub against her bottom cheek as if to soothe away the ache caused by a spanking. When the phantom Jack bent to place a kiss on top of her curls, she smiled and snuggled closer, never feeling more cherished.
Chapter 3
“Oh, it’s so good to have you back safe again, Major.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Knoll. It’s good to be back.”
She stood and motioned towards the closed door behind her. “The general will be with you in just a few minutes. Sit down and relax, you look exhausted. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
Jack smiled at the British woman who so reminded him of his mother. “Thanks, Mrs. Knoll.” If he hadn’t realized he was among his own countrymen before, he did now with just the mention of coffee. Though she was a Brit herself, she knew enough about him to know his preference to coffee over the tea she and her compatriots preferred.
He took a seat, his hat held in his hands as he waited. He seemed to be waiting quite a lot lately but he didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to think. As always upon returning from a mission, he’d been summoned to Allied HQ near London. Jack grinned when he realized that he wasn’t wondering about his debriefing, but instead was thinking about Jane’s response to his last missive. They’d been corresponding for a few months and while he’d enjoyed the arrival of her letters, he had to admit that their exchange might be ending soon. It seemed Miss Jane Kennedy wasn’t the woman for him. He was positive she was a wonderful gal, one who loved fun and would make some man a wonderful wife… but his gut was telling him that she wouldn’t be settling down anytime soon. While he was ready to find that one special woman, one who believed in the value of a what Jane called an ‘archaic way of life’, he’d yet to find her. With the war, it seemed that more and more young women were discovering that the world was changing.
Jack knew all about change. He’d grown up in Central Texas on a small ranch where everyone’s parents or grandparents seemed to be either Czech or German, having come to America at the end of The Great War. Though his heritage was Czech, their numbers were in the minority and German was the only non-English tongue freely spoken. From childhood, Jack had German speaking neighbor kids as friends and his studies naturally included German, where he excelled. He worked hard in his studies, knowing that his parents couldn’t afford to send him to college. His determination to further his education was evident when he graduated as Valedictorian from his high school. He’d given his speech, thanking those who had helped him reach this point in his life, all the while knowing he would be leaving within two weeks. Jack’s mother had cried and his father had been proud when Jack had received the notification that he’d been accepted into the military academy at West Point. The requirement to serve in the Army after graduation wasn’t a deterrent—he considered it not only an honor to serve his country, but knew he couldn’t ask for a better education. He graduated as a second lieutenant, quickly made first lieutenant, and then captain once he was stationed in Hawaii. He’d been there on the day that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor. He’d watched as planes dove and bombs exploded. Like every man who witnessed the destruction, lost friends, and saw the veil of safety torn away, he’d not hesitated to pack his gear and travel across the world in order to report to the newly established OSS in Europe. He had no doubt that his present position and assignments were based on the fact that he was fluent in German.
“Jack, come on in.”
Jack snapped to attention, a bit chagrined that the general had caught him unawares. “Sorry, sir,” he said, standing.
“Nonsense, I’m aware that you haven’t exactly had the opportunity to sleep.” The general stepped aside to let Jack enter. Mrs. Knoll entered right after him, carrying a tray with coffee cups, a pot of coffee and a plate of cookies… or biscuits as they were referred to on this side of the Atlantic. After she’d served both of them, she took her leave. The general made small talk as Jack finished his first cup and poured another.
“So, son, tell me, what’s the status of the mission?”
Jack spent the next two hours giving detailed information about his latest foray behind enemy lines. Since the US had officially entered the war, Jack and several others in the OSS had been working to gain the trust of members of the resistance in France. Jack’s affinity with language allowed him to converse not only in German but he had also quickly picked up enough French to communicate. His engineering degree helped him plan how best to disrupt everything, from lines of communication for the German command to destroying railroads, bridges, and anything that would hamper their supply lines. It was slow work but Jack was a believer in what he did. He’d worked alongside not only men, but women, who were willing to risk their lives fighting in the shadows. It was dangerous but absolutely necessary to keep evil at bay.
“Another successful mission,” General Helmsley said, clapping him on the back. “I hear that you almost didn’t make it back this time.”
“I have Lieutenant Markers to thank for my life. That man is one hell of a pilot. I swear to God he’s got some bat DNA in him. The man can sense obstacles that I can’t even see.”
The general nodded and grinned. “I’ve heard tell of his skills. Think it might be time to promote him?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
General Helmsley nodded and made a note on the pad in front of him. “Consider it done. Good job, Jack. We’ll let you know soon enough when you’re going back. Until then, get some rest.” When he stood, Jack did as well, accepting the general’s handshake.
“Thank you, sir.”
Leaving the office, Jack smiled when Mrs. Knoll added her two cents’ worth, again reminding him of his mother back home. “You are far too thin, Jackson. What you need is to find yourself a good girl to take care of you.”
“I’m working on that,” Jack assured her, even knowing that when he did find that girl, he was the one who would spend the rest of his life caring, loving, and making sure she knew that he was the one in charge—no matter the changing ways of the world.
Jack fingered the letters he’d just received at mail call. The hoots and catcalls from his fellow soldiers at the lingering floral fragrance and the soft violet color of one envelope didn’t bother him at all. His lips curved into a grin as he imagined Jane perhaps deciding that pretty stationery could dissuade him from what she believed were his terribly old-fashioned beliefs. The next possibility had his grin disappearing. Was the perfume supposed to soften the blow as she broke off further correspondence because as a modern woman who felt the need to live her life as she saw fit, she was informing him that he was nothing more than a Neanderthal and she had no desire to pursue a relationship?
“What does she say?”
Jack looked up as he entered the building housing the officers to see Bill Walton in the common area.
“Don’t know yet. What’s in the tube?”
Bill grinned, giving a wolf-whistle as he unrolled the poster. “Just a little something to brighten my quarters.”
Jack shook his head at the photo of Rita Hayworth in what he considered far too revealing clothing. As other men gathered around Bill to admire the poster, Jack sighed. Perhaps in today’s world he was expecting too much from a woman. He’d seen other posters in the barracks, depicting starlets such as Betty Grable, Ava Gardner, and Marie McDonald. He had to admit the alluring pin-up girls did tend to bolster a man’s flagging spirits with their sexy poses, all wearing nothing but a swimsuit and a smile. Hollywood might be doing their share to remind men what they were fighting for, but Jack wasn’t buying their claim that these women represented the ‘All-American Girl Next Door’. Besides, those weren’t the only posters he’d seen.
With the enlistment of so many men, gaping holes in industrial jobs needed to be filled. Even his own government was encouraging women to throw off their aprons and join the workforce. Rosie the Riveter with her red and white polka-dotted kerchief and her curled arm showing her bulging bicep told women that ‘We Can Do It’. And women were proving that indeed they could. While he appreciated their efforts, he admitted that he wanted his future wife to allow her husband to ‘do it’ and to know that he considered it his honor to support her. And he didn’t mean simply to put a roof over her head, food in her stomach, or clothes on her back. No, he wanted a woman who needed him on a much deeper level. His wife would know that even though she might contribute to the family coffers, when she stepped out of line, she’d be flipped over his knee to have her bottom warmed. Of course, once her punishment was done, he would make sure she knew exactly how much he loved her as they shared the endless pleasures possible between a husband and his wife.
He’d not wish for his wife to work once their children came along. Having been raised as the oldest of ten children, he knew that raising kids was quite possibly the most demanding job on earth. Hell, he thought leading battalions of men into battle had to be easier than trying to get ten children up, dressed, fed, and off to school on a daily basis. Once a battle was over, soldiers were generally allowed at least a short reprieve. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen his mother having nothing better to do than to sit with her feet up and a book that had words and storylines meant for an adult to enjoy instead of a simple picture book with short captions to be read to one of her many children.
No, he would not have his wife coming home and having to deal with the everyday needs of their children, too exhausted from some job to enjoy time with her husband once the kids were asleep. Both parents working might be fine for some couples, but he was stitched from a different cloth. Once they had children, his wife would stay at home. Call him a Neanderthal, but that was just the way it was going to be.
Jack grabbed a cup of coffee and retired to his room. It was time to find out exactly how Jane had responded to his last letter.
Sliding his knife under the flap, he allowed himself one last pause to enjoy the fantasy that she would state she had given up all other men and was ready to explore a far more serious relationship with him. Remembering reading her tales of movies, carnivals, long walks, and romantic dinners in the company of various men, he knew that was highly unlikely. Still, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret deciding that he needed to know her thoughts on whether she saw them having a real future together. That was the reason for the purposely firmly worded letter and his thinly veiled promise of a spanking if she didn’t toe the line. He admitted he was getting tired of the dating game. What he truly desired was to find the one woman who was able to stir his heart as well as his soul every time he opened a letter to read her words, thoughts, and dreams. Sighing, he slid the folded stationery free.
