Main Line Philadelphia
June 1940
Abby’s first year at Weston Teachers College over and classes out for the summer, she again offered to help out in the greenhouse. She’d overlook Jim’s response to her question two months ago on America joining the war and would work alongside him. She found him in the potting area, a large red, white, and blue handkerchief around his neck.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Jim said, grinning. He gestured toward empty ceramic pots on the ground. “I think we’ll tackle those, if that’s all right with you?”
Abby flashed a quick smile. Did he remember his curt reply back in April and her hasty departure afterwards? She squatted next to a jumble of ornamental containers.
Jim rummaged through them, then thrust his trowel into a bucket of thumb-sized stones. “About two inches of these should do.” He tipped the stones into one of the pots. “They provide slow drainage so the plant won’t dry out.” He crouched beside her. “Then fill up the container with compost—your ‘muck’—and a little top soil.”
Abby scooted to one side. Still he was good at his job. “How much of each?”
“I’m sorry, I forgot this is still new to you.” Jim moved in closer. “Half-and-half, see? Put tall daisies in the back, red impatiens in the center, and lastly along the outer edges of each container, the trailing begonias, petunias, and nasturtium so they cascade down the sides.” Suiting action to words, Jim completed one arrangement and set it beside her. “Use this as your guide, leaving two to three inches between each plant.” He smiled. “If you have a question, I’ll be nearby.”
As she toiled, Abby sensed Jim’s eyes on her and tried to catch him at it. But whenever she’d glance over, he’d look down at his hands and whistle, making a game out of it and beating her every time. Then Jim set down his trowel and strolled over, giving her one of those captivating smiles. “Off for the summer, are you?”
Abby nodded, focusing on the flowers in her hands. Please don’t come any nearer.
He removed his hat and twirled it in his hands like the first day she saw him. “Is college all you expected it to be?”
Abby’s wall of indifference collapsed, and she gazed up into those intense blue eyes below his dark eyebrows. “I’m looking forward to going back.” Her throat tightened. “Still, sometimes I feel se-se-selfish. There’s so much I could be doing at home for the war effort.”
Jim rocked back. “Selfish?” His brow furrowed. “When you complete your training, you’ll be teaching kids who’ll be future citizens.”
Abby—without breaking the lock of his eyes—flinched, taken aback by his response.
“My squirt sister with the big mouth says she wants to quit high school.” Jim hunched beside her, lowering his voice. “And the older one who had great dreams didn’t finish school.” He looked into the distance. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t go on like that.”
Surprised by his revelation, her cheeks grew warm.
“I’ll probably be one of the first call-ups if we enter this war.” He stood and swatted his hat against his thigh. “But until and if that happens my duty lies at home.”
In a flash of self-reproach, she understood. She’d misjudged him. His mother and sisters needed him, and he doesn’t want to leave them. And what had he said about his job, and how grateful he was to have it?
Jim slapped his palms together to dislodge the dirt. “It’s none of my business, but you might think about teaching on the estate during summer.” He plunged his hands into a watering can. “I know some of your uncle’s staff have youngsters who could use help with their schooling.”
How clever he is. “That would never have occurred to me.”
Jim bent to pick up a toppled container. “I must go. It’s trout season,” he said, as if to explain the urgency of his mission.
Abby’s stomach dropped as he strode off between the long rows of tables. She wished he’d stay longer. When he headed back in her direction, her pulse quickened.
“You’re doing fine here.” He grinned. “If you like, when I get back I’ll take you to see the new bonsai collection.”
She let out a breath. “Let me know when you return.” What was it about the young gardener that stirred her senses?
Abby craned her neck to keep him in view as he strode off. He opened the door to his truck and glanced back. Their eyes met.
Century United States and British history, particularly the period of World War II. Her longtime interest in that era goes back to the real-life stories she heard about family members who served during the war.
is a debut inspirational romance set in WWII. She enjoys flower gardening, genealogy research and traveling with her British-born husband. She writes from her home n Philadelphia, Pa. Pat has published essays, short stories and articles online and in print. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers. She loves to hear from her readers. Visit her at
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