Letters From Home Read Online Free Page B

room.”
    “Take your time,” he told her, and smiled.
    She turned to hurry away, not from anxiousness to leave, but rather to return.
    With the fog Morgan found himself in, he almost wondered if fumes from his brother’s whiskey were to blame. Liz had disappeared into the crowd, yet here he was, grinning like a possum. He couldn’t stop. He’d never met anyone so captivating. From her amber eyes that glowed and dimmed with her mood to the fragrance of a lavender field on her soft skin. More attractive still was the blend of her gentleness and outward strength.
    But there was something else. A feeling of understanding, a comfort that defied reason. It was as though kissing her, a near stranger, would have made all the sense in the world.
    He’d certainly had the impulse. Maybe he should have acted on it. Most guys at the dance would have done so without a second thought. At this very moment, his brother was likely coercing a smooch out of some girl in the room, a last favor before heading off to war.
    The war.
    How could he have forgotten?
    Tomorrow they’d be at Union Station, one step closer to deploying to some country thousands of miles from home—and a world away from Liz.
    Would a girl like that be willing to wait for a soldier she’d only known a single night? Or was he screwy to even consider the idea?
    He drained a sigh heavy with doubt.
    “Don’t tell me you lost that dame already.” Charlie’s voice turned Morgan around.
    “She’s in the ladies’ room.” Promptly diverting, he said, “So what happened with the redhead? Not as irresistible as you thought you were, huh?”
    “She was engaged. Doesn’t count. Besides, Jack says there’s a juice joint nearby, lots of gals there dying to show their patriotism.”
    “Hope they don’t charge much.”
    “Hey, I didn’t crack open my piggy bank for nothin'.” Charlie beamed. “I’m guessing you’re not going anywhere?”
    “Think I’ll stick around awhile.” The answer formed so effortlessly Morgan almost missed the pricking of his conscience. When the town sheriff caught little Charlie drilling peepholes at Mrs. Herman’s Lingerie Boutique, their father had made it abundantly clear Morgan was responsible for keeping tabs on his brother. A passage of years hadn’t relinquished the duty; if anything, need for the role had risen.
    But tonight, with the promise of Liz’s return, how could Morgan leave?
    “Now, if the skirt comes to her senses,” Charlie said, “and decides to hide in the john all night, be sure to come looking for us.”
    “Yeah, all right. Stay out of trouble, though, you hear?”
    “Absolutely.” Charlie grinned and snaked off toward his buddies by the door.
    “I mean it, Charlie!”
    The kid raised his hand as if to affirm he was going to heed the order. Morgan knew better, of course. And he certainly knew better than to turn his brother loose with a flask of booze and their buddy Jack Callan on their last night in the city.
    The thought ignited a flicker of regret, doused the instant Morgan’s nose caught a residual whiff of Liz’s perfume. Proof of her existence on his shirt. A reminder that he really had no choice.
    Preparing for her reappearance, he spiffed up his necktie, then swiped his hands over his hair, due for another buzz cut. In the midst of sliding his watch down over his wrist bone, he halted at the color of red: a cluster of punch spots, spiked punch at that, tainting the cuff of his sleeve. “Ah, damn.”
    Liz had only been gone a minute or two. He still had time before she finished cleaning up. Although finding a miraculous stain remover was a long shot, he had to try. The last thing he needed was an NCO’s reprimand, followed by hours of scrubbing latrines. And more important, looking like a slob wasn’t how he hoped to come across to the woman he wanted to impress.
    At the snack table, a matronly volunteer extended her sympathy and set off to retrieve a bottle of seltzer. While he waited, a