Page 34 of The Magic of Ordinary Days

The third time I saw Edward, it was only days after D-Day during the ongoing Allied invasion of Normandy.

He had managed to get leave from his base, and at first chance, had called me to meet him.

We met again outside the five-and-dime, then we went for lunch at an old saloon-turned-steak-house, where the owner walked around and talked to customers weighted down with a holster belt and a six-shooter.

On the walls were hundreds of animal heads, spoils from the chase.

After eating, we walked along the path that followed the Platte River.

Some of the Canada geese were already returning to build their nests there, and the river ran full to its brim with early summer runoff.

Edward most enjoyed talking of his plans.

“I learned more from watching my parents operate a business than from anything else,” he said.

He smiled in that way I now imagined whenever I closed my eyes.

“But the degree I earned will help to open opportunity.” He gazed up and down the river.

“My resort will be the finest and most efficiently run.”

“Would your parents help you get started?” I asked him.

“They would.” He glanced my way. “But I won’t ask them.” He reached down to pull a blade of grass. “I want to take on the risk, no one else.”

“You’ll start small, then?”

He nodded. “We’ll start with a T-bar.” He looked to see if I understood. When I nodded, he continued, “They’re far superior to a rope tow. Then we’ll need to buy rental skis and some equipment to groom the snow, but after that, we could go ahead and open.”

He held that blade of grass in his fingers like it was a stem of crystal. “As the years go by and we start to pull in a profit, we’ll invest in further improvements, such as a base lodge, a hotel, a restaurant.”

I pictured a modern resort for skiing high in the mountains and being there with Edward. I saw myself gliding down the slopes alongside him during the day, cuddling together in warm sweaters before a fire at night. “It sounds wonderful, Edward.”

He stopped walking and turned to me. “If I make it back.”

But I couldn’t allow myself to think about that.

Along the riverbank, purple lupine and white candytuft grew up through the soil. “I heard something on the radio this morning,” I said. “Our troops in France have started moving inland, and they’ve found fields spread far and wide with red poppies waiting for them.”

He moved closer and touched my face. “That proves it, then. Even in these tough times, it’s possible to find something good.”

I closed my eyes.

“Look at us,” he whispered, “I’m shipping out soon, but I’ve found someone to love.”

I could look at him now. “Maybe the war will end before you have to go.”

“No,” he said softly. “I’ll go. I’ll do my part.”

“Europe is lost to the Nazis.”

“Shhh,” he said, putting a finger to my lips. “Don’t even talk about that. Let’s just make the most of this time we have left together.”

He took me for dining and dancing at the Brown Palace, and I do believe he spent all the money he carried in his wallet.

When he first took me out to the dance floor, I was so nervous with anticipation of his arms around me that I tripped over his shoes and half stumbled into the center of the dance area.

Surely I would die from embarrassment. And surely he’d never been with someone as clumsy as me before.

But to my surprise, I found Edward grinning at me, not in a mocking way, but in a way that was nice.

And when he slipped his arms about my waist, I found myself no longer nervous.

Instead, waters of calm and confidence came coursing through me.

My feet were fluid on the dance floor. Not much later, that newfound sense of pride visited me again, and I danced high in Edward’s arms, a sailing ship rising high out of the waves.

If only my sisters could see me now. And wouldn’t Mother, too, have been proud?

Not to speak of Aunt Eloise and Aunt Pearl.

There I was, floating over the dance floor in the arms of a handsome man. Me, Livvy.

After we grew tired of dancing, he took me to a bar.

We sat leaning close to each other on our barstools in a place that played jazz, where hazy cigarette smoke drifted in the air, and where laughter became contagious.

Nearby, the bartender splashed honey hued liquor over ice cubes in small glasses, pouring with both hands at once to keep up with orders.

I cupped a hand to my face and said over the sound of the music and the other voices, “I’ve never been to one of these places before.”

He cocked his head my way. “Why is that?”

I shrugged. “My father is a minister. He doesn’t believe in alcohol.”

A look of reservation came over Edward’s face.

“It’s okay. I’ve always made my own decisions, and I want to try it.”

He thought for a minute, then seemed to relax again. “Better start off easy, then. Try orange juice and gin. It’s a fairly mild one”.

Edward drank heartily and with confidence, downing two small tumblers of whiskey while I sipped on my drink.

I found it not bad at all—orange juice with an aftertaste of white fire.

He hummed along with the music and occasionally glanced over at me with a smile.

The bartender served me just as he did everyone else, without a falter.

I must have looked as if I belonged, and when I finished the first drink, Edward ordered me another.

I thought the alcohol was having no effect on me until I rose to leave.

Then I found myself woozy on my feet as Edward steered me outside into the cool night air.

I walked onward, but I could have sworn my legs had been sliced away at the thigh.

I put one foot before the other, but it seemed to be happening by some other’s will, not my own.

I would have followed him anywhere he wished to take me.

Even now, however, I don’t use the alcohol as an excuse for what I later did.

I went to his room willingly. My body was reacting quickly, instinctively, subliminally, before rational thought had a chance to compete in the race.

I fell so deeply in love that night, and since I had so little to give, I gave it all.

He didn’t seem to mind my inexperience. In a hotel room lit by a yellow light, he undressed me tenderly.

The act itself began painfully, and at first I found his weight on me a bit frightening, but I loved it anyway.

I took in every thrust of the way he desired me so.

How hungry and desperate he seemed to be for my body, and how new and unexpected it all was—the feeling of our chests pressed together, sounds that came involuntarily from the back of his throat, the happy exhaustion that came after.

Never had I felt wanted in this way, never had I felt the power a woman possesses to give a man pleasure.

Afterward, we lay together on top of the covers.

Murmuring words of love, he kissed my neck and face and nose and ears, and of course my lips, too many times to recall.

His touch on my skin was eloquent; he wrote words on my body never uttered before.

And when he entered me again, this time his love was given slowly.

After long moments with my eyes sealed shut, I opened them to look at the molding on the ceiling, breathe in the damp air of his neck, and remind myself that this was actually happening to me.

In the early hours of morning, I slipped back into my father’s house, praying that he would not be up waiting for me.

But instead I found that I probably could have remained out the entire night, could have spent even more time in Edward’s arms. Father was sleeping soundly in his room, his snores so loud that I could hear them in the hallway as I tiptoed by.

In only a few hours, Edward would be arriving alone at the bus station to return to Camp Hale.

I had wanted badly to see him off, but he had insisted that our last memories come from our night together, in the yellow-lit hotel room, that he would take that memory away with him instead of one of us having to say goodbye.

“Don’t be sad. And don’t worry for me,” he had said as he kissed my face for the last time outside of the hotel.

“When will I see you again?”

He kissed me again. “A soldier never knows.”

“But you can let me know. Keep in touch with letters.”

He smiled and smoothed back my hair on either side of my face. “I’m not much of a writer, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”

“Oh, please do,” I said and clung to his shoulders. “Write to me every day.”

He kissed me for the last time, then took a step away. “For the next few weeks, we’ll be in the last of our backcountry training. But as soon as I get back to base, before I ship out, I’ll write. Okay?”

At the breakfast table the following morning, Father ripped off his glasses and stared me down over the top of his newspaper. “Olivia. What has gotten into you?” he demanded.

I shook myself. In front of me, I held a large spoonful of oatmeal. I had no idea how long the spoon had been hanging up there in the air, dripping globs of oatmeal onto a lace tablecloth that had been Mother’s favorite.

I laughed at myself and set the spoon down in my bowl. “Just daydreaming, I guess.”

Father grumbled as he turned back to his newspaper. “Daydreaming ? Folly for Abigail and Beatrice. But never before for you.”

I laughed again. Yes, how dull my days had been before this joyous creature had come to sit beside me, to ride with me. “True enough, Father. Never before for me.”