Six minutes to six, said the great round clock over theinformation booth in Grand Central Station. The tall young Armylieutenant who had just come from the direction of the trackslifted his sunburned face, and his eyes narrowed to note theexact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked himbecause he could not control it. In six minutes, he would see thewoman who had filled such a special place in his life for thepast 13 months, the woman he had never seen, yet whose writtenwords had been with him and sustained him unfailingly.
He placed himself as close as he could to the informationbooth, just beyond the ring of people besieging the clerks...
Lieutenant Blandford remembered one night in particular, theworst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in themidst of a pack of Zeros. He had seen the grinning face of one ofthe enemy pilots.
In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he oftenfelt fear, and only a few days before this battle, he hadreceived her answer: "Of course you fear ... all brave men do.Didn't King David know fear? That's why he wrote the 23rd Psalm.Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voicereciting to you: 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of theshadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.'"And he had remembered; he had heard her imagined voice, and ithad renewed his strength and skill.
Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes tosix. His face grew sharp.
Under the immense, starred roof, people were walking fast,like threads of color being woven into a gray web. A girl passedclose to him, and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing ared flower in her suit lapel, but it was a crimson sweet pea, notthe little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, this girl wastoo young, about 18, whereas Hollis Meynell had frankly told himshe was 30. "Well, what of it?" he had answered. "I'm 32." He was29.
His mind went back to that book - the book the Lord Himselfmust have put into his hands out of the hundreds of Army librarybooks sent to the Florida training camp. Of Human Bondage, itwas; and throughout the book were notes in a woman's writing. Hehad always hated that writing-in-habit, but these remarks weredifferent. He had never believed that a woman could see into aman's heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on thebookplate: Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York Citytelephone book and found her address. He had written, she hadanswered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone onwriting.
For 13 months, she had faithfully replied, and more thanreplied. When his letters did not arrive she wrote anyway, andnow he believed he loved her, and she loved him.
But she had refused all his pleas to send him herphotograph. That seemed rather bad, of course. But she hadexplained: "If your feeling for me has any reality, any honestbasis, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'dalways be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking achance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me.Suppose I'm plain (and you must admit that this is more likely).Then I'd always fear that you were going on writing to me onlybecause you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for mypicture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then youshall make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stopor to go on after that - whichever we choose..."
One minute to six - he pulled hard on a cigarette.
Then Lieutenant Blandford's heart leaped higher than hisplane had ever done.
A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long andslim; her blond hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears.Her eyes were blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentlefirmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime comealive.
He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice thatshe was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocativesmile curved her lips.
"Going my way, soldier?" she murmured.
Uncontrollably, he made one step closer to her. Then he sawHollis Meynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a womanwell past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She wasmore than plump; her thick-ankled feet were thrust into low-heeled shoes. But she wore a red rose in the rumpled lapel of herbrown coat.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.
Blandford felt as though he were being split in two, so keenwas his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longingfor the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld hisown; and there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle andsensible; he could see that now. Her gray eyes had a warm, kindlytwinkle.
Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers grippedthe small worn, blue leather copy of Of Human Bondage, which wasto identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would besomething precious, something perhaps even rarer than love - afriendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful.
He squared his broad shoulders, saluted and held the bookout toward the woman, although even while he spoke he feltshocked by the bitterness of his disappointment.
"I'm Lieutenant John Blandford, and you - you are missMeynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May...may I take you todinner?"
The woman's face broadened in a tolerant smile. "I don'tknow what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young ladyin the green suit - the one who just went by - begged me to wearthis rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go outwith you, I should tell you that she's waiting for you in thatbig restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of atest. I've got two boys with Uncle Sam myself, so I didn't mindto oblige you."
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar