“And Hunter is Zooming in?” Mom asks. She’s watching me, assessing me, seeing if she can stir up a little intrigue. I won’t fall into her trap that easily.
“Yup, Hunter too,” I say with a touch too much gusto.
Saying Hunter’s name brings up inconsistent emotions. I can’t wait to see his face, even through Zoom. We made up almost instantly after our disagreement, and we’ve spoken every day since. I want him close. Damn it—I need him close.
But I’m also nervous to have Hunter in the same room with Father Patrick, even virtually. It’s nothing truly, this closeness we have. But will Hunter sense it? Will it make him jealous? Will it scare him away?
“That’ll be nice. I know he misses you terribly,” my mom says with extra emphasis.
“I miss him too.” This is all a test—I can feel it. And it’s even more uncomfortable being tested in front of Father Patrick.
I discreetly adjust the ring on my left hand.
“He’s coming this weekend, right?” she asks, and then watches Father Patrick like she thinks he might be jealous.
“He is,” I say simply, refusing to feed the beast.
“Won’t that be nice? You’ll have to make up for lost time. Take a trip to Louisville? I heard it’s not that far away. Little pre-honeymoon honeymoon?”
“Maybe.” Then, to spare us all, I gesture at Father Patrick. “Don’t let us keep you. I’m sure Mrs. Lee likes her soup warm.”
“Ha ha. Yes. Absolutely.” He lifts the bag and backs away, a strange far-off expression on his face. “Thanks again for your charity. I’ll make sure to pass on your well-wishes,” he adds, sounding very priestly.
My mother says a majestic farewell and then looks at me with wide eyes once the door dings at his exit.
“That man is in love with you.” She makes the statement like it’s the most incredible news she’s heard in her life.
“He’s a priest, Mom. And I’m engaged!” I start packing up. There’s no use trying to work here anymore, and hopefully the shoot will be over soon. I’m going to insist on driving myself from here on out.
“I know, which is what makes it even more fantastic. You two are so hot for each other, I need to take a cold shower to get my temperature down.”
“Mother!” I’m not laughing. I’m furious. “Stop. Father Patrick is a good man. This kind of talk could ruin his reputation.”
“And your engagement to Hunter, but look at whom you’re jumping to defend first.” My mom thinks she’s incredibly insightful about relationships because she’s had so many. No one has the energy to correct her.
“I’m going to pay and head to the car.”
“To the car? Why?”
“Aren’t we done at five?” I check my watch. It’s five minutes to five.
“Oh no, dear. We’re here till sundown. Reshoots. This job comes with long hours; you know how it is.” She sounds like such a martyr.
Damn it.
“All right, then. I’m going for a walk.” I put my bag over my shoulder, feeling an intense need to get out of my mom’s orbit. I pass Nancy my credit card and hand her a one-hundred-dollar-bill tip with a giant, “Thank you.” Mom joins me at the door, but Conrad intercepts her when we hit the sidewalk.
I call out as they walk away, “Please, someone remember to text me when you’re finished.”
I turn in the opposite direction of the shoot, taking deep, cleansing breaths in the cool evening air. The sun is low in the sky but hasn’t set. Blossoming trees line the street. Main Cross Street has been shut down to traffic for filming, and I rush away before the next take. One more week of this chaos and then in three months—a quick wedding and reception—and boom, the film is a wrap. Hunter and I will be husband and wife, and I’ll never have to worry about this Father Patrick situation again.
A pang in my chest hits as that understanding sets in. I’ll never see him again. I know that’s a good thing; I barely know the man, and he’s a religious leader for goodness’ sake. But it doesn’t feel like a good thing, or the right thing.
I shake my head and pick up my pace. Mac shouts directions behind me as I approach Walnut Street. In front of me are Holy Trinity, the rows of ranch-style houses, the baseball field, and the cemetery. I turn to the right, putting Holy Trinity and Father Patrick behind me where they belong.
CHAPTER 22
Vivian
Thursday, June 10, 1943
Camp Atterbury
I lean against the bus stop sign, scraping at the dried mud on the bottoms of my shoes. It’s the third time this week I’ve visited the construction site, and I’m not sure Mary will ever get these shoes back in wearable shape. Thankfully, our schedules haven’t lined up for a few weeks, which means she doesn’t know how badly I’ve ruined them. It also means I’ve been having to take the bus.
Though the crew only has permission to work part-time on the chapel, it’s moving along quickly. They’ve dug the foundation, cleared the meadow, and built half the fence. Next, they’ll pour the concrete foundation, but they have to wait until Lieutenant Colonel Gammell approves the concrete mix and a new load is delivered. Until then, the men collect cement bricks left over from the construction of the camp’s sleeping quarters and will spend their three allotted days each week breaking the old concrete into a fine gravel to mix with the aggregate.
Before the war, I never would’ve thought twice about construction planning and supplies. But I now go to sleep thinking about where to acquire sand and the proper equipment for crushing blocks.
“I think it’s time for new shoes.” I look up to find Tom standing a few feet away. The two girls at the stop who’ve been chatting about ration recipes and soldiers they have crushes on go silent. They immediately focus on Tom. I’m sure they’ll soon add him to their list of crushes. I’m less impressed. It’s been almost a week, and the bruises he left on my elbow still haven’t faded away.
“I think the time for new shoes was last Friday if I remember correctly.” I dislodge another bit of debris from my heel, avoiding his eyes.
“I know,” he says, regret in his voice. “I was hoping to get these sooner, but . . .”
He holds out an off-white box with red lettering on it reading Styl-EEZ. The blonde behind me, pretending not to listen, lets out a gulp. I stare at the offering, wishing I had X-ray vision.
“Here. Open it.” He passes me the box. The contents rattle inside.
“Is this a joke? Will I lift the lid and find a garter snake in here?” I ask, eyebrow raised. “Because I’m not scared of snakes like other girls.”
“It seems to me there are lots of things you’re not scared of.” Tom chuckles, appearing to find my caution entertaining. “It’s not a snake. I promise. Just open it.”
I lift the lid, and inside, under a piece of tissue paper, I find a pair of medium-heel shoes, black leather, a shaped bow at the toes and a silver buckle on each side. Unexpected tears fill my eyes, and I swallow a few times, trying to make them go away. I must look like a fool to cry over shoes.
“Judy told me your size. I hope they fit.” Even with the pretty girls watching, Tom stays completely focused on me and my reaction.