Tracy Del Campo
1945
After sixteen months of fighting Hitler and his allies overseas, Jack Gebhart was grateful to be back on American soil. Lounging against the wall, a gin and tonic in hand, he surveyed the ballroom of the New York City nightclub. The lavish tropical-themed venue was swarming with dames and recently returned GIs, celebrating the end of the war. Revelers occupied every table and red velvet banquette, eager to let their hair down and have a good time. Couples, packed like sardines on the dance floor, were swinging to the sound of Benny Goodman and his big band orchestra.
Jack straightened when he spotted a familiar face, swaying to the rhythm under the fronds of a large potted palm. Soft waves of gold grazed her shoulders. A jewel-toned green dress hugged her frame. The stylish ensemble was a stark contrast to the drab khaki-brown Army Nurse Corps uniform he’d last seen her in.
They had met six months earlier at a field hospital in France where he was recovering from injuries sustained on the front lines. She had tended to his wounds, boosted his morale, and stolen his heart with her wholesome, girl-next-door charm. When he’d finally worked up the nerve to profess his feelings, it was too late. She was gone. Transferred to another hospital without so much as a goodbye. Regret had plagued him ever since. But tonight, a second chance had come his way.
After polishing off his drink, he adjusted the knot of his necktie and repositioned his cap while making his way across the smoke-filled room.
Their eyes met.
Her ruby-red lips curved into a smile. “Well, hello, soldier. What a pleasant surprise.”
That voice. Boy, how he had missed it.
The chandelier overhead lit her delicate features. He stood in silence, taking her in. The smattering of freckles that dusted her cheeks. Her nose, with its tiny dimple. One eye alluringly framed by a loose curl.
He tugged on his shirt collar, his heart thumping in his chest. Not since his schoolyard kiss with Lucy Franklin under the branches of a crabapple tree had he felt so strongly about a girl.
“Hi, Midge.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “You’re looking swell.”
“Thank you. You’re looking rather swell, yourself.” She lowered her gaze. “How’s that leg of yours?”
“Still on the mend, but it won’t stop me from cutting a rug.” He offered up a grin. “What do you say?”
“I’d be delighted to.” She tucked the wayward curl behind her ear.
Placing an arm around her waist, Jack pulled her close, savoring the sweet, powdery scent of her perfume and the warmth of her skin. His fingers wrapped around hers as the band played a slow number.
“So, what’s next for you now that the war’s over?”
“I have a nursing job lined up back home.”
“California, wasn’t it?”
“M-hmm. A little town along the central coast. My train leaves tomorrow, in fact.”
Her words brought a lump to his throat.
“How about you? Any plans once you hang up your uniform?”
“Well…” he paused. “It depends.”
She raised a brow. “On?”
“A girl.”
“Oh.” Her body stiffened. “I see.”
“Looks. Brains. Personality. She’s the sort of girl that makes a fella think about settling down and starting a family. About buying a little place in the suburbs with a porch and a picket fence. A station wagon. The whole nine yards. But the problem is … I don’t know how she feels about me.”
“You’re a wonderful guy, Jack. The best I’ve ever known, honestly. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” She wore a small, polite smile. “I really must be going now. I have a train to catch in the morning, and my suitcase isn’t going to pack itself.” She placed a kiss on his cheek. “I wish you all the best.” Misty-eyed, she spun on her heels and melted into the crowd.
“Midge!” He raised an arm and called after her. “Wait!”
Rushing from the exit, Jack spied her on the sidewalk, ducking into a black-and-yellow taxi. As it pulled from the curb, merging into traffic, he ran beside it, pushing past the pain that wracked his leg. His knuckles rapped on the window until the vehicle came to a halt. Ignoring the blare of horns, he opened the door and slid in beside her.
“You didn’t let me finish.” He gathered his breath. “I was just getting to the part where I confess my feelings to the girl.”
Her pale blue eyes peered at him from beneath wet lashes.
“I’m mad about you, Midge.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted the tears hanging on her cheeks. “Have been since the moment we met.”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “And I’m head over heels for you.” Her fingers clutched the lapels of his jacket. “This is the part where you kiss the girl,” she whispered.
Jack sprung a grin and drew her into his arms, his lips finding hers.
Fond of history, Tracy also fancies old houses, classic movies, museums, road trips, rainy days, and a good cup of coffee. Born and raised in the Midwest, she now resides in Southern California with her husband, and is the mother of two.
Tracy’s other Spark Flash Fiction stories include: A Season of Change, A Date with Fate, Mrs. Boyd’s Ambrosia, A Ticket to Des Moines, and An Unexpected Reunion.
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