Letters From Home Read Online Free

laugh. “Are you always this nice to fellas you just met?”
    “Just the special ones.” The admission rolled out before she could stop it. Oddly, however, she felt no need to backpedal; they seemed anything but strangers.
    “In that case,” he said, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”
    Behind Morgan, an attractive woman in a WAVES uniform rose at the neighboring table. She linked arms with an airman, who bid farewell to his buddies, and the couple set off through the crowd.
    It suddenly occurred to Liz that she had landed herself in the worst kind of room, one full of impending good-byes. Distant memories seeped about her. As she refocused on Morgan, words never far from the clutches of her mind spilled out. “So when are you leaving?”
    He paused. The question ironed the crinkles from the corners of his eyes. “We’re heading for our post tomorrow.”
    It was a reply she should have anticipated. Still, her heart sank.
    “Wanna know the truth?” He leaned toward her as if passing along a secret, his forearm on the table approaching hers. “I’m still hoping they’ll have second thoughts about trusting my brother with a loaded weapon.”
    She nodded as he sat back, and found herself equally disappointed and grateful he’d increased the space between them. “Well, that may not be an issue. Rumor has it, the war could be over any day now.”
    “Yeah, well. Whatever you do, don’t tell Charlie. If he doesn’t see at least one battle, he’ll never speak to me again.”
    “Oh? Why’s that?”
    “I made him wait till he turned eighteen.” Morgan traced the edge of the table with his thumb. “Even took a deferment to give him time to grow up.”
    “And you think that worked?” she mused.
    “Based on what we’ve seen tonight, I’d say definitely not.” With a wink, he turned to watch the dancers. Aside from the premature gray sprinkled above his ears, he appeared just a few years older than Liz. Only from careful observation of his eyes did she sense a forced maturity, a cheated youth. An accumulation of endured hardships intended for a man far surpassing Morgan’s age.
    “I swear,” he said, “that kid has added ten years to me.” He gave the side of his head a gentle scratch as if he’d read her thoughts.
    “Sounds like he’s kept your life exciting, at least.”
    “That he has.” When Morgan faced her, their gazes did more than meet; they locked in place, forming an open passageway. Her natural reflexes should have intervened, broken the connection, but those reflexes were no match for the invitation in his eyes. Without reason or reservation, she felt her soul accepting.
    “I’m done,” Julia said breathlessly, materializing out of nowhere. Her presence tugged Liz back to reality, reminded her of the performance that had brought her here. She glanced at the stage. A tuxedoed soloist had replaced the trio. Betty must have been primping for fans in her dressing room.
    “What happened to your partner?” Liz asked, not seeing Charlie.
    “Oh, don’t worry about him.” Julia flicked her hand behind her. “He’s already found a new victim. Thank goodness.”
    Morgan stood and offered the chair to Julia.
    “That’s okay, I’m not staying,” she said, grabbing her beaded purse.
    Liz’s shoulders tensed. “You’re ready to leave?”
    “Suzie and Dot are here. We’re going to Tasty’s to grab a bite. Want to come?”
    Morgan retook his seat, appearing watchful of Liz’s response.
    “You go on ahead,” she replied. “I’ll be home after the show.” Even in her own ears, the words seemed to have come from someone other than herself.
    Julia rumpled her brow, then extended a curious smile. “You two have a good night.” Once out of Morgan’s eyeshot, she gave Liz a look that said she expected a full explanation in the morning.
    Liz urged her legs to follow—after all, what was she doing?—but then a series of notes overpowered the thought. A slow version of “Stormy