Free A Distant Melody by Sarah Sundin Page A

think it’s the grand piano.”
    “Must be.” He played a few bars. “Should I bring it on our first date?”
    A date? Allie’s chest constricted. But of course, he was only teasing. He knew about Baxter, didn’t he? “A date is somewhat of a . . . well, a moot question, isn’t it?”
    “Ah yes.” He clapped a hand over his chest. “Ripped asunder by war’s cruel hand.”
    Her laugh tumbled out. Yes, he was joking. “Betty says you’re shy, but you’re positively flirting.”
    “Hey!” George said. “I’m the one who’s supposed to flirt. Where’s my bride? I want my bride.”
    “Just sing, darling,” Betty called out. “I’m listening.”
    Allie ducked back into the room. “Betty, you have to see. They’re adorable. And this—this is a once-in-a-lifetime moment.”
    Betty chewed on her lips.
    “I know,” Dorothy said. “Let’s cover our curlers.”
    Betty and Dorothy draped towels over their heads and clasped them under their chins, and the three ladies squeezed together on the windowsill. The ukulele twanged, the kazoo whined, the piano tinkled, and George and Walt sang deep and rough.
    True, warm contentment snuggled in Allie’s soul. The summer night breeze, the music, such dear friends, George and Betty’s deep love—truly a once-in-a-lifetime moment. Although she longed for love like theirs, no bitterness tinged the sweetness.
    Once again, Walt’s understanding shone in his smile. Whatever his faults, he was a kind man and a welcome friend. What would happen after she went home? Would he write? She hoped so. Friends were rare and precious, especially friends who understood.
    A string on the ukulele popped, and George tossed it aside.
    Betty sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I love you so much, George Anello.”
    “I love you too, and tomorrow you’ll be my wife.” He blew her a kiss and disappeared into the darkness.
    Betty and Dorothy withdrew behind the curtain, and Allie reached up to lower the sash.
    “Good night, Allie.”
    She looked down. Only Walt remained in the golden cone of light, the toy piano tucked under his arm. “Good night, Walt.”
    His warm smile struck a delectable note in her heart. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if . . . ?
    No! Allie shut the window and turned away. She twisted her hands together while her friends adjusted curlers. “Walt knows I have a boyfriend, doesn’t he?”
    “Of course,” Betty said. “I told him all about you.”
    Allie frowned. After all, he didn’t pay attention to Betty’s stories.
    “He knows,” Dorothy said. “He talks to you, right?”
    Betty laughed. “Poor Walter. He can only talk to a girl if she’s taken.”

8
    Saturday, June 27, 1942
    Walt stood in precise at-ease posture. If only his mind were at ease.
    The paralysis was back.
    As soon as Allie glided down the aisle of Riverview Community Church in that long green dress, every muscle froze. When she gave him her soft smile, he forced his mouth into some stiff position that probably didn’t even look like a smile. Now only his neck muscles worked, but he couldn’t control them. He should watch his father bless his friend’s marriage, but Allie drew him like a pretty little magnet.
    How was he supposed to dance with her if he couldn’t move?
    Allie’s eyes turned to him. Walt whipped his head front, as if intent on Dad’s words. Second time he’d been caught watching her.
    Why now? Why was he freezing up now when he knew she was interested in him? No doubt after her flirting at the serenade, her dreamy look when he sang to her, and the look on her face when he said good night, as if she wanted him to scale the wall and kiss her right then. Last night he could have, but now?
    Her waist looked even tinier in that dress, her hair curled so softly, and she had such a sweet expression. Boy, did he want to kiss her tonight.
    Allie gave him a curious look. He snapped his head front so fast his neck hurt. Swell. She knew he was watching her. She knew something was