Page 92 of The Girls of Pearl Harbor
‘I’ll never get married and have a family of my own,’ he croaked. ‘I’ll watch my friends live their lives, and I’ll be watching it all from the sidelines.’
Eva blinked away tears, wishing she knew how to tell the handsome, strong man in front of her how wrong he was. ‘I wouldn’t have cared if my Charlie had come home with no legs, Art. I still would have loved him with all my heart.’
His tear-filled eyes met hers. ‘But I wasn’t someone’s Charlie before the war, Eva,’ he said sadly. ‘You loved him already for the man he was. No one is ever going to look at me now and want to love me, are they?’
‘You’re wrong. You can’t think like that, Art,’ she said, quickly wiping at her eyes when he looked away. ‘After everything we’ve all been through, everything we’ve seen, I think everyone will be more, I don’t know, open minded when we return home.’
He shook his head. ‘Flying is all I’ve ever known, but I’ll be useless when I get back.’
They sat in silence for a while, Eva lost in her own thoughts as she sat on the ground in front of Art. He seemed happy soaking in the sun’s rays, and although she was hot, with sweat slowly spreading across the back of her neck, she never complained. The nights were already getting cooler now, and she had no idea how warm the days would stay, and she wanted him to enjoy it for as long as he could.
‘When will I be sent home?’ he suddenly asked.
‘I’m not sure. Soon, I suspect.’
‘You’ll help me get used to this chair before then?’ he asked. ‘I’m still terrified I’m going to fall out of it.’
She smiled. ‘Of course I will. And you’ll get used to using it on your own soon enough, once you’ve built up your strength again and figured out your balance.’
Art looked at her for a long moment. ‘Thank you. For sticking with me even though I was so rude to you.’
Eva went to reply, but his softly spoken words stopped her.
‘I remember that day, Eva. I remember looking into your eyes as you carried me; the pain was so bad, but I stared into your eyes and listened to your words, and I wondered if I’d died already. I knew it was you.’
Eva moved closer to him and reached for his hand, holding it as he spoke, knowing how hard the words must be for him.
‘I remember waking, slipping in and out of sleep, and seeing you sitting by my bed. I was even going to ask you out—I kept thinking that there was no way I’d let a pretty girl like you get away without asking you out—but then when I found out my leg was gone, I realized you’d only been sitting with me because you felt sorry for me.’
‘That wasn’t why!’ she gasped. ‘Art, I wasn’t sitting with you because I felt sorry for you.’
‘Why, then?’ he rasped. ‘For what other reason would you be sitting with a cripple?’
She shut her eyes, not wanting to look at him as she admitted why. ‘Because you reminded me of Charlie, and all I could think was that if he’d survived, I’d have wanted someone to care for him,’ she whispered. ‘For him to wake up and have someone with him so he didn’t have to face it all alone.’
‘You honestly think you’d have loved him if he’d ended up like this?’ Art’s voice was gruff now, his eyes searching hers.
‘I’d have loved Charlie no matter what happened to him,’ she said. ‘He was everything to me. I’ve got nothing left now.’
He frowned. ‘You’re the one telling me to feel grateful for being alive, and now you’re sayingyou’vegot nothing left?’
She smiled. ‘I’ve said too much.’ Something about him made her want to open up, to share with him when she was usually so good at being guarded.
‘Tell me why you’ve got nothing to live for?’ he asked.
Eva shook her head. ‘The last thing you want is to hear about my troubles. I’m the one supposed to be fixing you.’
Art planted his hands on the armrests and leaned forward. ‘I think maybe you spend too much time trying to fix other people. But if I’m going to trust you, you need to trust me,’ he said. ‘I’ll make you a deal. You tell me why you’re so sure you’ve got nothing to live for, and I’ll promise to do all the physical therapy you’ve been trying to get me to do.’
She raised her eyes. She never talked about her life, about what she was going home to, why she was afraid, not with anyone. She hadn’t even opened up to April and Grace, not entirely.
‘Charlie protected me,’ she finally said, deciding to put the same trust in Art as he was willing to put into her. ‘He looked after me, and his family opened their arms to me. I was finally going to be safe.’
Art frowned. ‘Safe from who? Who did Charlie need to protect you from?’
A big breath shuddered from her. In her mind’s eye, hands choked her throat; his breath was bitter, but his boot was the worst part. The thud of the steel cap connected with her thigh, making her leg buckle, but his grip around her neck, her back against the wall, kept her from slipping to the floor.‘My father,’ she said, pushing the memories away. ‘He has a special way of showing his love for me.’ She looked up and saw that Art was staring at her still.
‘When you say “special—”’
