Page 272 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

Betsy could feel her face flush at the words she’d just written and yet knew they were a true depiction of not only how she’d acted, but how she’d felt when reading Jack’s response. Resisting the urge to wad up the sheet and begin again, leaving out the admittance of guilt, she forced herself to be honest and continued.

I must also confess that your response has me hoping that you’ve forgiven me. As for Jane, she has not only forgiven me, but encouraged me to write you and let you know the real Betsy, so I’m taking her advice. I am a school teacher and love watching my students learn new things. When not in the kitchen trying new recipes, you’ll often find me curled up on the divan and losing myself in the pages of a good book. You mention the radio shows you listen to and though I’ve not heard of those, I do enjoy listening to Bing Crosby and am quite addicted to a few other programs. I love going to the movies and confess the newsreels about the war make me sad thinking of how the world is so torn apart. When not inside, I enjoy long walks and picnics. Jane says that I’m an old soul and I can’t deny that I am.

I know we’ve not met, but there is something about your words, your beliefs, I suppose, that touch me in ways I’d never considered. I won’t say that I understand my feelings because, to be honest, I don’t. But asking myself why I feel pulled to make this confession doesn’t keep me from feeling the need to write to you and ask your forgiveness. I’m not one to lie and I feel just awful for doing so. I can only promise that I won’t do so again.

Betsy smiled, her words penned across the sheet going a long way toward easing the guilt she’d felt. Hopefully, the major would accept her apology and, if a future relationship between them was meant to be, the next step would need to be his. Her cheeks flushed as she wrote the last bit.

I really don’t know much about baseball, but I find myself hoping that one day you’ll ask me to a game and perhaps explain the rules of play. Until then, I’ve pitched the ball back to you, sir. If you wish to simply drop it and walk off the field, I’ll understand. You don’t condone deceit and I was deliberately deceitful. But, if you’ll give me another chance, I hope to prove that I’m not really that type of girl.

Whatever you decide, Major, please know that my thoughts and prayers are with you. Stay safe during this awful time and know that people stateside appreciate your service.

Sincerely,

Betsy

PS: Please don’t consider these cookies as an attempt to negate my guilt. Your thanks for the cookies from Christmas reminded me that our soldiers miss so much being so far from home. I thought you might enjoy these and share them with your buddies the next time you are gathered around the radio. If you get the program, I highly recommend Ellory Queen—it is a wonderful program full of mysteries to solve. Though I now wonder if I need to listen a bit more closely as I never considered that I was leaving clues to my identity with a strand of hair or the shape of my lips.

Once the letter was sealed, Betsy spent the rest of the day baking cookies. Jane wandered in and smiled, snatching a fresh chocolate chip cookie from the cooling rack. “Good idea, Bets. Bribery with home-baked goods is very clever.”

Betsy slapped at her hand as Jane attempted to snag another cookie. “It’s not bribery! It’s just that those poor soldiers do without so much. A few cookies are a poor substitute for the comforts of home.”

Jane laughed and had not one but two cookies in her hands before Betsy could react. Taking a big bite, she rolled her eyes. “All I know is that if a certain major can resist the woman who makes such treats, then it will be his loss. You’ve definitely hit a home run with these.”

“I’m just hoping that perhaps they and my letter will be enough to get me into the stadium,” Betsy confessed, acknowledging that the dozens of cookies she’d made were perhaps a little bribe after all.

“I guarantee it,” Jane said, reaching for the wax paper after wiping her chocolate-stained fingers on a towel. “Here, I’ll help you package them.”

The two women worked together, filling a large box with a variety of cookies, both knowing that despite their care, most would be reduced to crumbs by the time the box made it overseas. Before sealing the box, Betsy slipped another sheet in. She couldn’t stop the soft giggle as the picture she’d drawn stared up at her when she reached for the packing tape. Even if the cookies didn’t convince the major of her sorrow at her deceit, the picture most certainly would.

Taping and addressing the box, she gathered up her letters and placed them all on the little table by the front door.

Bright and early Monday, she was the first customer in line at the post office.

“Good morning, Betsy,” Edith said. “Who’s the lucky recipient this time?”

“Major Novak,” Betsy said, placing her box on the counter. Edith weighed it and began covering the box with different stamps, being careful not to mar the purple envelope centered on the box’s front.

Edith smiled. “By the delicious smells, I know your cookies will make the major quite happy. Is there anything else you need today?” Betsy handed over payment for the package as well as another roll of stamps. With any luck, she’d be using quite a few. Giving the older woman a wave, she left the post office and climbed into her car. When she found herself humming, she stopped mid-note. Giggling, she shook her head as she recognized the tune that continued playing in her head. Take Me Out to the Ballgame was exactly what she was hoping would be in her future. That and a man holding her hand, explaining the game, and sharing the prize inside his box of caramel corn and peanuts. It was a wonderful hope to have, and the feeling of anticipation filled her heart.

“Novak, Novak, Novak.”

Jack grinned as his name was repeatedly called out by the soldier handling today’s mail call. Ignoring the grunts of his fellow officers, he stepped forward and accepted the fistful of letters. He began to turn to step back when he heard, “Hold up, Major.” Jack’s smile grew wider as a large box was passed to him.

“You are planning on sharing, aren’t you?” Bill asked when he’d returned to the group.

Jack didn’t even consider asking how the man knew he’d even want what was inside the box. The aroma of baked goods was unmistakable though, to be honest, he was far more interested in the scent of lilacs faintly discernible beneath the tantalizing smell of chocolate. Shaking the box slightly, he grinned. “Sure, but I suggest anyone who wants a taste grabs a spoon.”

“Not a problem,” Bill stated, other officers agreeing instantly.

After the last letter had been given over, the group left to return to the common room. Jack set the box on a table and carefully slit the tape holding the letter to the box.

“Not going to share the letter?” Bill teased.

“Not in this lifetime,” Jack said, handing the knife to his friend. “Be glad I’m the generous sort and will share what I remember as being the best cookies I’ve ever tasted.” Bill took the knife while Jack stepped back, turning the envelope over and feeling disappointment sweep over him at the absence of a pair of pursed lips sealing the flap. Were the cookies a way of saying good-bye? It would be a sweet gesture, he admitted, but he’d much rather do without the cookies in lieu of starting what had seemed like a promising exchange with a woman he’d felt instantly drawn to.

Laughter had him looking up and seeing Bill picking up a sheet of paper from inside the box. “What’s that?” another officer asked, reaching for the sheet.

“Not for us, I’m sure,” Bill said, holding the paper out to Jack. “You never told me your gal is quite the artist.”

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