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92 pages

English

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Thomas Fletcher first sees her in 1916, at a drug store in Birmingham, Alabama. He doesn't know her, but her brown hair and beautiful eyes captivate him. He soon learns her name-Juliette Wilcox-and she would learn his. Their attraction cannot be denied, but something stands in their way. Thomas is a drafted soldier, about to be sent to Europe to fight in the dreaded World War I. Although Juliette begs for them to be married before he goes to boot camp, he doesn't want to leave her a widow. Their letters will keep them close. Letters are all they will have until he returns from the battlefield-hopefully, alive. For the next four years, letters arrive from far off France and Germany to Juliette's front porch in Alabama. For the next four years, their love grows, develops, and increases. Even so, war is a dark force, and many men never return. Will Thomas be one of the soldiers lost, or will he come home and make Juliette's dreams of marriage a happy reality.

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Love

Love (disambiguation)

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Publié par	Book Venture Publishing LLC
Date de parution	09 août 2018
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781640697263
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0000€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

LOVE LETTERS A DOUGHBOY

A WORLD WAR I LOVE STORY

MARGIE HOWD
Copyright © 2018 by Margie Howd.
All rights reserved. N o part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
BookVenture Publishing LLC 1000 Country Lane Ste 300 Ishpeming MI 49849 www.bookventure.com Hotline: 1(877) 276-9751 Fax: 1(877) 864-1686
Ordering Information: Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address above.
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Control Number 2017960581 ISBN-13: Softcover 978-1-64069-724-9 Pdf 978-1-64069-725-6 ePub 978-1-64069-726-3 Kindle 978-1-64069-727-0
Rev. date: 03/06/2017
Contents
Dedication
Preface
Acknowledgments
PART 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
PART 2
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
About the Author
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my husband, Jim, and to the memory of my mother and her par ents.
Preface
T his is a fictionalized account of the real life love story between my grandfather and my grandmother, told to me after I was old enough to understand just what a real “love story” was all about. Writing this book has truly been a wonderful (and difficult) journey for me. Much of the story has been changed, but this much is true: my grandmother came from a very well-to-do family, and my grandfather was a poor farmer’s son. I have taken the liberty of creating the Birmingham Museum mentioned in this text. To my knowledge, there was no such museum in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1916.
After my great-aunts and great-uncles passed on, I found a wealth of information from the love letters my grandfather had sent to grandmother while he was serving as a doughboy or infantryman in World War I. Their pages, weathered with age, date back to 1916. My grandparents’ story began just before the United States entered the First World War and lasted until my grandmother’s death in 1968. After her death, my grandfather continued to live a very interesting and profitable life. That story comes l ater.
Acknowledgments
M y strength and love go out to my husband, Jim Howd. With his kind urging, I was able to complete this book. Jim always encouraged, even when words did not come. Thanks also to W. Michael Farmer for help with research and to Luke, George, Jamie, Brian, and Vera. This experience has truly been a wonderful (and difficult) journey fo r me.
Part 1
Chapter 1
AUGUST 28, 1916
F rom the side yard, Juliette heard someone whistling John McCormack’s “Somewhere a Voice Is Calling,” but instead of George Alston, her father’s hired man, it was Spencer Davenport, the best-looking boy in town, in her opinion. She stood and waved to him.
“What are you doing here?” she a sked.
“Looking for a lovely lady,” he said. “Have you seen any?” he asked, when he reached the p orch.
She punched his arm playfully. “What are you really doing here?”
“I came with my dad to see about some acreage your father wants to sell.”
“Are you going to buy it?” Juliette a sked.
“I’m not. I don’t know about Dad.” Spencer stepped closer. “My, you look pretty. Mind if I steal a kiss?” She touched the red tie on her navy dress with the sailor collar and smiled as Spencer slipped his hands around her tiny waist and pulled her close to him. At that moment, Nattie, George’s wife and the Wilcox family’s cook, came onto the p orch.
“I thought I smelled trouble when I saw you slipping through the yard,” Nattie said. “Miss Juliette, go in the house and wait for Ge orge.”
Juliette bristled. “Why don’t you mind your own business? You can’t run my life.”
Nattie smiled and took a pencil and a small notebook from the pocket of her apron and made a mark on one of the pages. “Just keep on sassing me. Your daddy knows I charge more to work with sassy girls. What you just said cost him a quarter. I reckon he’ll have a talk with you when my bill gets real high.” She tucked the notebook away and wiped her coppery forehead with a handkerchief. “As for my business, he said not to leave you without a chaperone when young men come calling. Your sisters will be out here sho rtly.”
Spencer started to say something, but Nattie warned, “That goes for sassy guests too. Now, what was you about to say?”
“I think it’s time for me to get going. Nice talking to you, Juliette.” He walked around toward the back yard.
Nattie took a pinch of snuff from a small tin and placed it in her cheek. “Mmm hmm. See how quick he leave when he know there won’t be no kissing invo lved?”
“Who’d want to stay with an old colored woman hanging around anyway?” Juliette asked, feeling a sting in her conscience as she said it. Nattie wasn’t old, and her skin color shouldn’t ma tter.
Nattie calmly took out her notebook and made another mark. “You still got a few things to learn, girl. That boy thinks you pretty, but down deep, he don’t care about nothing but one t hing.”
“How would you know?” Juliette expected Nattie to make another mark in her notebook, but she di dn’t.
Instead, Nattie spat a stream of tobacco juice into the bushes and said, “I know a lot of things you’ll never know.” It struck Juliette that Nattie would look almost regal standing on the porch in her yellow floral-print dress if she would stop spit ting.
A moment later, Juliette’s sisters, Mary and Kate, came out to the porch. Kate glanced about and asked, “Where did he go, Nattie? I wanted to see Spencer!” She had an urgent look, as if she’d missed an interview with the prince of Wales or something. Juliette noted that Kate was wearing one of her prettiest dresses, a blue chemise with a bow at the waist. Her hair was pulled back with tortoise shell combs. She glanced over at Mary and rolled her eyes.
“Who knows?” Mary said. “Perhaps he’ll fall for a thirteen-year-old girl.”
“He likes me. He will want to see me,” Kate said.
“He’ll want to see you make yourself scarce!” Juliette said.
“Nattie, she’s being mean.”
Nattie, who was taking another pinch of snuff, said, “Why don’t you go around back and find him?” Kate took off running down the steps, and Nattie yelled, “Kate! Walk like a lady!”
Mary looked at Juliette and said, “What a great way to get rid of her. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Juliette shook her head and said, “Poor Spencer!” and they lau ghed.
Their mother stepped outside, and when she found out why they were laughing, she laughed with them. “Always trying to steal your beaus,” she said. She turned to Nattie and asked, “Are you up to making a crown roast for dinner tonight?” Nattie nodded and followed their mother back into the house. George drove Mr. Wilcox’s Studebaker Touring Car around, parked, and opened the back passenger door for Juli ette.
As they neared the downtown area, they drove by rows of lovely Victorian homes along a street paved with oaks draped with Spanish moss, and Juliette started singing, “Dusk and the shadows falling o’er land and sea; somewhere a voice is calling, calling for me. Dearest, my heart is dreaming, dreaming of you,” and she stopped to ponder whom her heart was dreaming of because she wasn’t sure. It struck her that Nattie was probably right about Spencer. He’d likely whistle that song for any pretty girl.
“Mighty pretty song. Why’d you stop singing?” George a sked.
“George, do you think there’s one perfect person for everyone, and when you find that person you just kno w it?”
George glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Absolutely—I knew it the first time I saw Nattie,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I want to find whoever my heart is dreaming of and marry my perfect match. Then, when I get married, it will be a joyful event, and the whole church will be packed with people watching a real live fairy tale unfold before their eyes.” She si ghed.
George chuckled and said, “I hope you get your wish.” He glanced back and asked, “How come your folks let you take this job? Your daddy’s got plenty of m oney.”
“I wanted it, but Mom didn’t like the idea. Then Daddy said it would teach me some valuable lessons. In the end, Mom gave in, saying it couldn’t hurt since only the finest, most upstanding people visit the mu seum.”
George parked in front of the museum, got out, opened the door for her, and then walked with her to open the museum door for her. She knew he didn’t have to do all that, but George was nice. “Good day, Miss Juliette. I’ll be back at two o’clock.” Juliette lingered in the doorway long enough to hear George pick up her song in his rich, clear voice, “Dearest, my heart is dreaming, dreaming of you. Somewhere a voice is calling for me … ” She listened until he pulled away from the curb, and then she hurried to open the museum’s gift shop.
Chapter 2
T homas Fletcher got out of bed carefully before dawn to avoid waking his younger brothers. He knew his mother would call them to help her soon enough. Moreover, he enjoyed the stillness of early morning without Ralph and Edward’s chatter. Thomas went to the kitchen and lit an oil lantern. His back and shoulder muscles were still sore from the day before, when he’d