Chapter One
Denver, Colorado, June, 1942
"EVERY ENGAGEMENT RING we see is a
diamond," complained the Air Corps lieutenant. "Melany isn't
like other girls. Can you show us something more unique?"
The lieutenant's fiancée, a striking
brunette, touched his arm fondly. "What Logan means," she
said, "is that he hasn't known me long enough to recognize me
without some identification."
Franklin Meyer, the elderly owner of
Kismet Jewels, bent his head to hide a smile. Once he too had been a
young soldier leaving a pretty girl to go to war. He was fortunate;
having fought for his adopted country against Spain, he had returned to
marry the girl. Last year would have been their ruby anniversary.
"Then I have a tray of rings in back that you must see. Please, be
seated."
As he hastened to the big safe in the
work room, Sonja Atwell, his friend and part-time assistant, looked up
from the parcel she was readying for mail. "What is your
hurry?"
"I have customers I am especially
eager to please."
He understood the lieutenant's desire
for a unique ring to mark his claim on his arresting fiancée. The young
woman, too self-possessed to be termed a girl, had a certain cachet that
drew and held one's attention. Franklin suspected that only a man secure
in himself was likely to approach her without some hint of invitation.
When he returned to the salesroom, he
found Logan and Melany perched on stools at the counter, laughing, their
heads inclined and all but touching. He looked forward to selling a
beautiful ring to this handsome couple. For a little time, the three of
them might pretend that all was right in the world, a world in which so
much had gone wrong?viciously, heartbreakingly wrong.
He placed the tray of rings with colored
stones on the glass counter before them. "You are correct,
Lieutenant. Such a lovely hand deserves a very special ring."
Melany's slim hands were lovely.
The shade of a high country suntan, their tapered red nails matched her
full red lips, nature's magnet to a virile male. Her lustrous dark gray
eyes framed by thick straight lashes reminded Franklin, the jeweler, of
hematite, an opaque gemstone blessed with mystery impossible to divine.
He approved of the way she wore her glossy jet hair too, winging from a
side part, the tips bending inward rather than drawn into tight curls
and tortured pompadours favored by most women these days.
"Ohhh, Logan." The
sparkling array seemed to draw her breath, to the jeweler a sure sign of
appreciation.
The lieutenant's hazel eyes shone his
approval too. "Try the big sapphire, Melany. It looks like a piece
of the sky."
"Pure glory," she murmured,
picking up the vivid blue marquise sapphire flanked by two small
diamonds and slipping it onto her third finger.
The white gold ring wouldn't pass over
her knuckle. "I can have it sized for you by tomorrow,"
Franklin said smoothly. "You will not mistake your bride-to-be in a
crowd, Lieutenant. I have no other stone of this exact color."
Logan peered at the ring, then took a
pair of aviator glasses from his uniform pocket and cuffed them over his
ears. The style gave him a studious appearance. Despite his uniform, and
a crewcut so short the spiky brown hairs reflected the gold sun shining
through the window, he might be a graduate student returning to college
instead of going to war.
"You're only pretending to know
what you're seeing," teased his fiancée.
"I don't need glasses to know this
is the one."
Melany's smooth brow crinkled,
emphasizing her strong cheekbones, and she glanced at Franklin.
"Only if the price isn't forbidding."
"No, no," he assured her.
"Even a fine sapphire like this costs less than most diamonds of
its size." Discreetly, as one did in such instances, he removed the
tag from the ring slot and displayed the price.
Melany's dark eyes slipped sideways to
her fiancé. "It is expensive though..."
"So what else do I have to spend my
pay on?" Logan took a single check from his shirt pocket and said
firmly, "We'll pick it up tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Meyer."
Still holding Logan Barre's check,
Franklin watched the handsome couple leave his shop, Melany's tall, slim
body, posture and walk reflecting the taut suppleness and confidence of
youth, the lieutenant's large boned, muscular build complementing his
military bearing. He wore the uniform, not the other way around, and
Franklin felt certain he did not tolerate incompetence from the men in
his charge. Clearly smitten by his bride-to-be, he would be a dangerous
man to challenge for her.
Melany was more reserved in her display
of affection, and Franklin deemed she was of a more practical nature
than her fiancé. He recalled Rina, his bride of nearly forty years, and
smiled. Rina had thought him a dreamer. Perhaps he still was.
Outside Kismet Jewels, Logan at last
flagged down a taxi and hustled Melany into it. Her nose wrinkled at the
cigar smoke bestowed by a recent passenger. No one in her family smoked,
nor did Logan in her presence.
"To think," she mused, sliding
across the seat. "Mother has worn her grandmother's wedding band
since she was married."
"Why?" asked Logan, settling
into the seat beside her. "Wouldn't your old man buy her one of her
own?"
"Dad," she returned in
mild rebuke, "would buy her Montana if she wanted it. Or die
trying."
Logan directed the driver, then turned
back to Melany. "So you're not the daughter of a golddigger. Nice
to know, since I don't come with big bucks."
"Mother may not care about
trinkets," she said with a laugh, "but her daughter adores
glitter."
Logan lifted her red fingertips to his
lips. "Then, my beautiful half-breed, I promise to cover you with
beads. The McKinley women obviously inspire devotion."
Heat rushed through Melany and she
smiled into his warm eyes. Partially gifted with her mother's
"knowing," she'd recognized at their first meeting?three weeks
ago at a lawn cocktail party she attended to keep her roommate
company?that this was a good man. Their brief, intense courtship
convinced her they could create a loving marriage and family.
If. Resigned to the chilling fear
that would be her constant companion until the war ended and Logan
returned to her, she tucked it into a secret pocket of her mind.
"You've told me about your bratty
brothers and little sister," Logan said, "but you haven't
talked much about your folks. Except that ?lazy' isn't in their
vocabulary."
"They've always led a simple life
with the family as its center. They're disciplined. When they set their
sights on something, they get it." Melany paused, thinking.
"Dad is quiet and watchful, whereas Mother craves variety and
action and people."
"Their personality differences
sound tough to reconcile."
"They're night and day. Dad says
Mother is like a stew with more pepper in it than necessary. It spoils
your taste for anything blander. I can't imagine either of them without
the other."
She stroked Logan's long cheek, delving
into his gaze, eager to learn more about him in every precious second.
"Sometimes," she added, "I think my family thrives on
crisis."
Amused, he drew her against his side.
"I'll help carry on the tradition. As the only child of inhibited
Republicans, I'm due for a change." And ignoring the driver's eyes
in the mirror, he kissed her with ungentlemanly enthusiasm.
When he at last released her, Melany
straightened her skirt. "You certainly hide your Republican
inhibitions," she said breathily. "Here I'm graduating from
secretarial school and not one instructor covered Taxi Smooches. Dad
should get some of my tuition refunded."
Logan nibbled her ear. "If he read
my mind right now, he'd demand it all back."
She did her best to look innocent.
"Did I tell you he can snap off the top of a hundred foot pine with
one shot?"
"No," he groaned, "you
didn't."
The taxi jolted to a stop in front of
Melany's rooming house. Logan helped her from the cab, and waited beside
it while she hurried up the steps to the house, turned, waved and
stepped inside, out of sight.
He settled glumly into the corner of the
seat for the trip back to the base.
If only we had more time.
Neither he nor Melany was impulsive by
nature. Their instant attraction and the comfort they felt with one
another had astonished both of them. He smiled at the sentimental idea
that they seemed meant for one another. Still, it felt right.
They'd agreed the war shouldn't rush
them into marriage. Melany couldn't bear the idea of making a mistake,
and Logan cared too much to risk leaving her with a widow's pain. If he
were killed with only a ring and a promise binding them, she'd recover
more quickly. Unfortunately the damned war speeded up everything. His
parents said the same thing about the last one.
If only we had more time.
He'd first seen her across the crowded
lawn of his 4-F cousin's home. Half the uniforms from Lowry Field
appeared to be at the cocktail party, along with a liberal sprinkling of
pretty girls and smartly dressed women. Melany, silhouetted in a fitted
blue dress against a row of sun-shot aspens, was talking to a political
type in a civilian suit. Logan willed her to look at him and she did,
meeting his stare with mild curiosity, but no challenge or phony
demureness.
During the minutes it took him to angle
through the milling crowd and cross the wide lawn he didn't take his
eyes off her, and by then she'd drifted away from the civilian. Without
a word he clasped her elbow and silently maneuvered them to a secluded
spot behind some bushes.
Turning her to him, he said without a
trace of humor, "I'm Lieutenant Logan Barre, stationed at Lowry,
sound of mind and unattached. Will you marry me?"
Her dark gaze, also without humor,
probed his for the longest moment of his life.
Slowly she said, "Tonight, or will
the morning do?"
Since then he'd thought of little else,
beyond the completion of his navigation training and reassignment.
Melany's shining eyes had seared his soul. Her straightforwardness and
practical outlook equaled his own. Her lithe figure and sensual mouth
aroused and tantalized him. Banked fires lay beneath her calm demeanor,
and he knew he could fan them to white-hot flames.
Restless, he shifted to the opposite
side of the cab, recalling the times Melany had lightly run her hands
over his uniformed chest and along his sides as though committing his
body to memory. Instinct told him it was useless to ask her to go to bed
with him so soon. Perhaps later, when he got a furlough, she'd exchange
her innocence for pleasure beyond her deepest dreams.
If only we had more time.
MELANY COULD HARDLY believe her good
fortune. To think she almost hadn't gone to the party where she met
Logan. Until that moment she thought the idea of ?love at first sight'
absurd. One grew into love, like her parents had.
Then she discovered an instant need to
be near Logan, the handsome, sophisticated aviator whose first words to
her were a genuine proposal of marriage. Instantly she'd known it wasn't
a line, even though he was eight years older and far more experienced
than she.
Breaking into her thoughts, Angie
Powers, her blonde, Kewpie-doll roommate called from the top of the
stairs. "Melany, hurry! Sandra needs help with her hair." She
leaned over the newel post, stressing the urgency of the situation.
"Her date tonight looks like a stand-in for Clark Gable."
Melany tagged her to the suite the three
girls had shared for the past eighteen months. "Well, since Logan's
taken, a Gable stand-in isn't bad."
Angie glanced down at Melany's naked
left hand. "Where's your new ring? One of you back out after
all?"
"It's being sized. You can see it
tomorrow."
"Uh-huh." Angie's lip
took on a skeptical curl. "Bet you don't even come home tomorrow
night. Logan's crazy if he doesn't cash in?"
"Hush!" Melany scolded.
"Somebody around here may be trying to study."
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON Logan and Melany
returned to Kismet Jewels. Franklin's mood brightened at once. This pair
of lovers pleased him a great deal.
When Logan slipped the sapphire ring
onto her finger, Melany said, "You're right, it does look
like a piece of the sky. And yet it was created in the earth."
It was the awe in her voice that decided
Franklin. He had thought about this intriguing young woman for most of
the previous evening. Certain now, he began paving his way with charm.
"It is a good thing for me that your fiancé has paid for the
ring," he said, waving Logan's check, "for now that I see it
on your hand, I could never ask its return."
For the first time he received the full
impact of Melany's gaze, and felt his old heart grow rubbery. He gave
her the smile once reserved for Rina. "You are sensitive to the
earth's exquisite gifts. It is more than an appreciation of beauty. It
is something I see all too rarely in my customers."
"I told you she was special."
Logan's pride of ownership reflected in his face as well as his voice.
Turning to Melany, he said, "Time to celebrate, honey. Let's go see
if we can get a seat at the Blizzard Lounge."
"Wait!" Franklin held up one
hand. "I have a bottle of French champagne I have been saving for a
special occasion. Please...share it with me." Without waiting for a
reply, he moved quickly around the counter. "I will put my Closed
sign in the window for a few minutes."
Hesitating, Logan glanced at Melany.
She seemed to recognize the importance
of Franklin's invitation, and her smile included both men. "We'll
be pleased to join you, Mr. Meyer. It's an exceptional compliment."
Sonja had left for the day, and Franklin
decided he would not tell her she had missed a glass of his hoarded
French champagne. He took the bottle from the old gas refrigerator in
his workroom, three tulip glasses from a cabinet, and returned to his
guests. At his request, Logan deftly removed the cork from the bottle,
losing very little of the precious pale wine in the process, and poured
some into each glass.
Franklin raised his glass and admired
the tiny bubbles, glistening in the sunlight as they rose in the
delicate hollow of crystal. "First a toast to the bride and
groom...and then I will make a proposal of a business nature."
They sipped the fine wine in reverent
silence, perhaps wondering when, if ever, they would again taste such
tingling fragrance. Franklin refilled their glasses, commenting,
"It is said that when three share champagne, they share
friendship."
Finished, Logan carefully set his glass
beside the empty bottle with a sigh. "It was kind of you to share
such a treasure, Mr. Meyer. I'll remember it for a long time." Then
he checked his watch. "Now for your business proposition. I have to
warn you, my savings account is pretty anaemic."
Franklin smiled and shook his head.
"It is my age that is anaemic, Lieutenant." He turned his gaze
to Melany. "I am nearing seventy. Soon I must give up this
business, which I love, or have assistance. I can trust only someone who
feels as I do about the stones." He nodded at her sapphire.
"As you do."
"Me?"
Melany's eyes widened, and Franklin
experienced a twinge of jealousy of Logan Barre. Oh, to be young
again. "Yes. The young man I was training was called into the
Army. My other assistant left to work in a defense plant. The money is
much better there, of course. A friend helps during my lunch period, but
the jewels do not speak to her. Besides she is even older than I. So I
hope you will consider what my business has to offer an ambitious young
woman like yourself."
Melany's dark eyes were shrewd,
assessing. "Do you mean you'd train me in the gem business,
and not just expect me to sell, sell, sell?"
"That is what I mean."
Franklin said a quick, silent prayer. "I have no children. I do
have a great deal of knowledge locked up here?" He tapped his
temple with a knobby forefinger. "?which otherwise will go to waste
when I retire."
"Melany," Logan cautioned,
"don't make any snap decision about this."
"I won't," she said crisply,
then held out her hand to Franklin. "I will think about your offer,
Mr. Meyer, and let you know very soon."
That evening, in the boxy bungalow where
he and Rina had lived most of their lives, Franklin received a phone
call. As usual, he answered with his name.
"Uncle Franklin," said an
energetic, accented male voice, "you do not know me. I am Daniel
Wenceslaus, son of the sister of Varina, your wife. My mother was
Radinka Cizek Wenceslaus."
Excitement surged through Franklin's
veins with every word the young man spoke. "Of course I know of
you, Daniel! Through your mother's letters, although not for some time.
You are in the United States?"
"Yes, Uncle. That is all I am
permitted to tell you at this time."
"Your mother??"
"Perhaps I may tell you a little
when I arrive in your city. I am told that will be soon."
"Oh, yes! Please come to see
me, Daniel."
"I will do that. It will be good to
see someone of family. Goodbye, Uncle, until we meet." |
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