Happy Birthday Mick St John, a moonlight fanfic

Title: Happy Birthday Mick St. John: Part 1 – Love and War

Author: Marianne H. Stillie

Categories: Romance/Drama/Angst/Melodrama/Humor/Tragedy

Rating: T

Pairing: Mick/OFC/Beth

Season: Season 1

Summary: Mick's past reminds him why love requires mortality to exist, flourish and survive.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places for Moonlight are the property of Silver Pictures Television and Warner Bros. Television. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks are intended. Previously unrecognized characters, places and this story are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Archive: Please do not archive anywhere without the author's permission.

Author's Notes: This story is set just after the "B. C." episode and before "The Ringer".

It is being done entirely from Mick's point of view. The third person past represents all his memories while the first person sections are his present.

I'm writing this story for two reasons. First, I find it entirely implausible that Mick didn't have a serious love relationship before Coraline, a tragic one that made him totally emotionally vulnerable to her in 1952. Second, I also believe there's a much deeper and more spiritual connection between Mick and Beth than what's been hinted at in the twelve canon episodes. His rescue of her as a child and her rare blood type don't come near explaining the intense attraction between them.

I also address my one backstory quibble with TPTB of this show. Considering that Mick stayed in LA all these decades, it's unrealistic that he didn't change his name.

Happy Birthday Mick St. John

Part 1 – Love and War

Going on an overnight trip takes a little extra preparation for a vampire like me. There's the usual change of clothes and necessary toiletries. Then there are my meals. A cooler and dry ice make traveling much more convenient nowadays.

I've been making this trip once a year since '67. You'd think I'd be able to take it all in stride and just let the good memories hold me together. That's the way this year's regular trip in September had gone. This unexpected trek north for my son's funeral is opening up all the old wounds and regrets. And it hurts like hell.

My cell is ringing insistently. I hesitate then cross to the dresser and look at the number. I can't help the sigh that escapes when I see whose number it is.

"Hello, Beth."

"Hi, Mick." A short beat and she asks, "Are you okay?"

Today I resent that she's come to know me so well she can read my voice over the phone. "Fine. What can I do for you?"

With a light laugh, she says, "More like, what I can do for you. I know tomorrow is your birthday." Another little laugh, "Dinner is out, so instead I have tickets to the Big Band Series at the Hollywood Bowl. I know how much you like the music from that era."

I hate having to crush her caring enthusiasm. There's no choice this time. "I appreciate the thought, Beth, but I'll be out of town for a couple of days on business," I lie.

Again the nervous little laugh, "That's no way to spend your birthday. Can't you reschedule?"

"No."

Her response to my cold abruptness is a deep silence then, "The tickets are good for the season. Maybe when you get back?"

"I'll call you. And thanks, Beth."

I hang up quickly and fling the cell at the loveseat across the room, hitting the open overnite case. The pain from my past ramps up even more, and I haven't left LA yet.

June 1942

The Hughes Aircraft Company in Culver City had efficiently geared itself to war production within months of Pearl Harbor. Building construction and new equipment installations had become a round-the-clock frenzy of activity. As the bustle increased each day, so did the noise level in the newest plant.

"Excuse me!" the young woman shouted. When there was no response, she stepped into the welder's line of vision and said even louder, "Excuse me!"

Behind his welding mask, Mick looked away from the job he was doing in response to the person waving at him. He could tell she was yelling something, but he couldn't have heard what it was even if she was right on top of him. He turned off the welding torch and put it on the piece of equipment he'd been working on. As he took off the mask, his forearm automatically wiped his forehead before the heavy drops of perspiration could get in his eyes.

"Are you Mr. Sullivan?" she asked, her voice struggling to be heard above the pounding shop volume.

"I'm Mick Sullivan. My father is Mr. Sullivan. Who are you?" he asked loudly in what had become his normal work voice.

"Peggy Barnes." When he didn't say anything else, she said, "You look awfully young to be a supervisor."

"I'm not. A supervisor, that is." When she just stared at him with a questioning expression on her face, he half-smiled. "I'm very good at what I do though."

A very noticeable smile played around her mouth. "And that is?"

"I'm a great welder."

Peggy's sky blue eyes sparkled as her arm made a wide arc behind her. "Then you'll be able to teach us to be as good as you are."

Looking where she was pointing, Mick saw a crowd of women, at least twenty, making their way toward his work station. The cockiness that had taken hold of him when he was talking to the young woman one-on-one ended, and he slipped into what his buddy Frank Russo called his 'work' personality. Taking charge of the trainees as he'd been asked to do by the plant manager, he began memorizing the names and faces of the women as they introduced themselves. Peggy Barnes' name and face easily imprinted first.

July 1942

Shift changes always brought a steady stream of people going in and out of the cafeteria. Mick fell into the line of workers going in. He let himself be moved along by the momentum as he searched the tables for Frank. The usual small crowd was around the radio that kept them in touch with what was going on in the war while they were there. The grim faces his co-workers wore told him the latest news wasn't good.

He had come in early to meet with the plant manager to report on the progress of the trainees. He'd handed in his carefully detailed report, noting the strengths and weaknesses of each of the women he'd been teaching over the past month. The older man thanked Mick for his conscientious work, asked if he'd be willing to do that kind of training again then wished him a good weekend. Avoiding any long-term commitment to the training suggestion, he'd shaken the man's offered hand and left the office. Several of the men who'd been hired at the same time he was had already left for the military. He'd considered volunteering, but for now he knew his skills were needed there building planes.

When he spotted Frank close to the serving area, he grabbed a cup of coffee and headed in that direction. The coffee was still the real thing since food rationing hadn't started yet. While he made his way across the room, he heard a ripple of high-pitched laughter coming from a nearby table. As the number of female employees increased, he was getting used to that pleasant sound. Scanning the faces at the table, he wasn't surprised to see his trainees in the group. At the next peal of laughter, he was able to single out Peggy's distinctive voice.

It had only taken a week for him to admit to himself that he was interested in her. The beautiful blue eyes and honey blond hair were the immediate attraction. Each day of training had shown him that she was much more than just pretty. She had picked up his instructions quickly as if she'd been born to the work. She was smart and capable and not at all shy. He found himself smiling often when he was around her, his natural shyness disappearing. By the time the training was over, he had relaxed enough to enjoy the easy, casual touching that just seemed to happen when they were near each other. The smiles and looks from her told him that she wouldn't mind if he asked her out. At least he thought that's what they meant. Getting up the nerve to actually ask was the hard part. The shift assignments for his trainees that would be posted later today might be the final decision-maker.

"I'll be glad when this day is over," Mick lamented as he sat down across from Frank. He couldn't help glancing at the table where Peggy was, now quiet and smiling, as the women's conversation shifted into a calmer topic.

"Yeah, it's tough work, teaching all those women day after day." When Mick just smiled, Frank said, "You really need to stop being so shy with the girls, Mick. I know for a fact several of your ladies are just waiting for you to ask them out."

With a short laugh, Mick said, "When I find one I'm really interested in, I will."

Frank grinned. "I think you already have."

Mick avoided his friend's dark brown eyes and took a long swallow from his coffee cup.

Frank leaned forward on the table. "A bunch of us from our shift will be spending tomorrow at the beach. You're invited."

"After about ten hours sleep, I have other plans."

"Peggy's going."

Keeping the disappointment out of his voice, Mick said, "Next time."

Exasperated, Frank said, "Don't tell me you're going to spend your first Saturday night off in a month at that smoky club – again?"

"After my job, comes my music," Mick answered simply.

"You definitely need a girlfriend."

The shift change buzzer sounded and a wave of movement began in the room.

"I'll leave the romance to you and beautiful auburn-haired Julie," Mick said standing.

Frank followed closely beside him. "Romance is for guy's like you. I go for the sex as soon as I can get it."

From the small stage, Mick saw them come into the club. He was sitting out the bouncy swing piece the other musicians were playing. His trumpet wouldn't be needed until the last number of this set. Frank and Julie had been there before so he was glad they'd arrived just in time for his solo. Tall, dark-haired Carl from the motor-assembly line on their shift was a jazz lover from way back. Mick wasn't surprised that he'd joined them, along with his wife Betty. The person he was surprised to see was Peggy. Talk about pressure to play his best. They found a vacant table directly in front of the stage. Even in the club's dim light, he could see her blue eyes staring at him as soon as she sat down.

The abrupt end of the lively dance number interrupted Mick's open staring-back at Peggy. That familiar little smile of hers told him she had noticed and was pleased, so he smiled back.

As the dancers drifted to their tables, the combo's leader stepped up to the microphone. "Before we take a break, we're going to slow things down. Settle back with whatever you're drinking and enjoy a very hot and sweet vocal by our very own songbird, Lillian. As a special treat, one of Mick's trumpet solos will raise the heat even higher."

Applause greeted Lillian and Mick as they stepped forward. The lights dimmed and a spotlight came up on the statuesque brunette woman. In tandem with the piano's first notes, her voice came out in a throaty whisper, "'There's a saying old says that love is blind…'" When the introductory words to the Gershwin song faded, the spotlight expanded and Mick's horn came in with the words of the first verse, replacing the piano, "'There's a somebody I'm longing to see…'"

Sultry feminine voice and steamy trumpet notes moved in synch through the first two verses and the bridge lyrics. At the last word, Lillian's voice receded leaving Mick's horn the only sound in the room. The notes he played were strong and emotive, recognizable yet with intricate variations. When he got to the familiar last verse, her voice came back in, the words dancing with the notes he played. A slow, sensual breathiness flowed through the last line she sang, "'…someone to watch over me,' "as his horn crescendoed up and held on her last word then faded into silence.

The audience erupted in heavy applause and loud whistles. Lillian and Mick took their bows. Mick stepped back giving Lillian the full spotlight. She smiled, bowed deeply as the applause continued then pulled Mick back into the light, kissed him full on the mouth and moved out of the brightness.

At the table, Frank stood up, whistling loudly. Without hesitation, Julie, Peggy and the others stood and applauded for Mick. Finally the spotlight faded along with the audience's reaction.

The stage lights went out and the band members dispersed. The room lights came up as Mick stepped down from the stage and went to his friends' table.

Julie quickly stood up and hugged him with her usual demonstrative enthusiasm. "That was wonderful, Mick! I could listen to you play all day and never get tired of your music."

"You play a damn good horn, Mick," Carl said.

"Thanks," he answered in the shy voice that always came out when people gave him compliments on his playing. Sitting down in the only empty chair right beside Peggy, he added, "Glad you all came. We've been making some good music tonight."

A disembodied voice came over the club speakers, "While the band takes a well-deserved break, we'll be spinning some platters for those of you who still want to dance. Hope you'll all stay for more of tonight's gig."

"Are we staying, Carl?" Betty asked.

"Sure. Why?" Carl asked surprised.

"It's awfully smoky in here," she said, sniffling and rubbing her nose.

"Yeah, that's what I keep complaining about every time we come here," Frank jumped in. "Thank God you don't smoke, Mick. That's why you make such a great roommate."

"Why did you come here, Frank?" Mick said with a laugh. "And don't tell me it was to hear me play. I thought the beach was an all-day party."

"The party is continuing tomorrow and you're invited, again," Frank announced.

Eagerly, Julie added, "Actually, we're celebrating. Now that the shift assignments have been announced and Peggy's staying in our group, she's agreed to share my apartment."

Mick's eyes went to Peggy's face. Looking directly at him, Peggy said, "That daily trip back and forth to the valley isn't much fun. Julie had mentioned that she was hoping to find someone to share expenses so I jumped at the chance to be closer to work."

He didn't miss her emphasis on the word 'work' or the smile that came with it. "Now that there are four of us working the same hours, we can save on gas. Do you drive, Peggy?"

"Not yet. Do you give driving lessons, Mick?"

Frank and Julie gave each other knowing glances at the obvious flirting going on between their two friends.

Mick laughed softly. "Welding isn't so different from driving. I'm sure I can, if you trust me to teach you."

Before Peggy could answer, the first notes of an up-tempo song poured out of the room speakers.

Julie grabbed Frank's arm, "Let's dance." They were up and on the dance floor in seconds followed by Carl and Betty.

Mick and Peggy continued staring silently at each other until a waitress came up to the table. She put five bottles of beer with glasses and a glass of clear bubbling liquid down.

The attractive older woman slid her hand across Mick's shoulder and said in a silky voice, "Your usual, honey."

"Thanks, Viv."

Peggy picked up the full glass in front of Mick. After sipping the contents, she asked, "Club soda with lime?"

"I don't drink when I'm playing. It numbs my senses. I want to feel the music completely."

"You play beautifully. The best I've heard since I came here."

"Thanks. I've noticed a faint southern drawl in your voice since we met but I can't place it, even with my music-trained ear. Where are you from originally?"

"Oklahoma. My folks were farmers, sharecroppers for generations. We didn't have much but we managed. Until the drought. We came west when I was nine. My Daddy got in the WPA and we stayed. My baby sister was born here." Blushing, Peggy added, "I'm sorry. I'm talking too much."

Mick had become so lost in her pleasant voice, he had trouble getting out the words he wanted to say, "You're a sweet little country girl all of eighteen, right?" Peggy's lilting laugh that followed his comment made him shiver.

"You should never ask a woman her age. Didn't your Momma ever tell you that?"

"I thought that only applied to older women, or so my mother told me."

While they laughed, Mick poured beer into a glass and handed it to her. "Good luck with your shift assignment, and your new living arrangements."

Clinking glasses they drank then went back to smiling and staring at each other. The fast dance music ended and Frank, Julie, Carl and Betty breathlessly returned to the table.

The first notes of a Glenn Miller ballad started. Totally oblivious to the others at the table, Peggy asked Mick, "Do you dance as well as you play?"

Without a word, Mick got up and offered her his hand. She took it demurely and let him lead her onto the dance floor.

"Frank, remember what you said in the car on the way over here, that you wanted to be there to see your boy Mick fall? Just look over there," and Julie inclined her head toward the dance floor.

"It's about time," Frank breathed thankfully.

Mick's senses were taking turns being overloaded. He recognized the Wind Song perfume Peggy was wearing and couldn't help gulping in the wisps of fragrance that teased his nose, as if the scent had a special taste from being on her skin. The feel of her in his arms was a toss-up sensation with the soft caress of her loose hair on his cheek. When she started to sing the lyrics of the song against his jaw, his ears weren't the only things tingling.

"'When you smile at me I hear gypsy violins.'"

Determined not to embarrass himself or her, Mick loosened his hold on Peggy and moved back so he could look in her eyes. "The band is here until pretty late. I know the others aren't night owls, so would you like to stay until closing?"

Moving her left hand so that it rested on his neck, just inside his white dress shirt that was open at the throat, Peggy answered, "On one condition – we count this as our first date."

"Why?"

"If it is then you won't be so shy when we're at the beach tomorrow."

Mick knew that the huge smile he felt breaking out on his face was too much, but he didn't care. "This shy city boy would like that very much."

As if it was the most natural thing to do, Mick and Peggy moved their bodies so close anyone watching would think they'd known each other forever.

September 1942

Having their full weekend off coincide with a holiday was a special treat for the people on Mick's shift. The clock on the diner wall was edging close to twelve-thirty making it already Saturday morning. The long Labor Day weekend had started, but he wasn't looking forward to it. The next three days would be even worse than his full weekend off last month when he'd been alone.

Deliberately, his fingers played with the fine strands of pale hair that had escaped from the long, thick braid Peggy wore at work. Her mouth quirked in a soft smile while still keeping her eyes closed.

"I've figured out why you don't want your parents to meet me."

Now her eyes did open and she lifted her head from the back of the booth seat. There was no smile, just an oddly tense expression. "You have?"

"It's because I'm a musician. They don't want their beautiful little country girl with someone who may never be able to support her."

"I know someday you'll be a successful musician, Mick," she said lovingly. Hesitantly, she reached over and took the Celtic cross he wore on a thick chain around his neck between her thumb and index finger. "This is the reason I can't take you home."

"Because I'm Catholic?" he asked stunned.

Peggy's eyes lowered then looked back at Mick. Her full lips pursed in a tight line. "One of the things my Daddy brought with him from his country life was his old hatred of Papists. Even though it goes back so many generations, he can't see it doesn't mean anything anymore."

Mick covered her hand as it rested on his chest still holding the cross. "Both my parents come from immigrants who arrived here with nothing because of the famine in Ireland. I guess I'm lucky that my family is far enough removed from the Protestant hate that they wouldn't blink an eye if I brought you home."

"Thank you for understanding," and she brushed her lips across his. "And thank you for not asking me to stay this weekend. The real reason I'm going home is because of my Momma. Ever since the first news about Guadalcanal last month, she's been petrified of getting one of those telegrams about my brother Henry."

Peggy rarely talked about her family so this was a surprise to him. "He's a Marine?"

Proudly, she said, "He volunteered the day after Pearl Harbor. He's the second oldest and was always playing soldier when we were growing up." Laughing, she explained, "My oldest brother Ben, who joined the Navy that same day, doesn't understand why Henry enjoys being a foot soldier so much."

"I guess Ben prefers having several tons of steel under his feet to protect him." Taking her hand in his, he kissed it and smiled, "You go home and see your Mom. I'll be waiting when you get back Monday night."

Frank and Julie came up to the booth carrying several grease-smudged brown bags. "The bill's paid. Let's get going."

In the parking lot, the four of them piled into Mick's 1936 two-door Plymouth sedan. Frank and Julie settled themselves comfortably in the back seat as Mick headed the car toward the apartment complex.

The silence as the street lights went by only lasted a little while. As the muffled sounds of early lovemaking increased in the back seat, Mick was more and more uncomfortable. He'd become used to Frank and Julie's overt displays of passion over the months he'd known them. Despite her self-assurance and assertive nature, he knew Peggy was disturbed by their openness.

Before Mick could cover the increasing sounds with his deep voice, Peggy asked in an overly controlled tone, "Will you be playing at the club this weekend?"

"Tonight and Sunday. I thought I'd go see my folks on Monday. I do miss my Mom's cooking."

"Good. I don't like the idea of you being alone all weekend."

The silence in the front seat between Mick and Peggy became even louder than the real noises coming from behind them. Mick was grateful when he was finally able to pull into the apartment complex and stop the car in front of Julie and Peggy's unit.

"End of the line folks," he said loudly.

He quickly jumped out and pushed the seat back down so Julie and Frank could get out. Going to Peggy who was standing on the other side of the car, he could tell she had taken note of the disheveled state of their friends' clothing. Ignoring Frank and Julie's enthusiastic good night as they stood on the small porch, Mick put his hands on either side of Peggy's face.

"If you decide to come back early, maybe you can come with me on Monday? The Sullivan's do a great Labor Day picnic."

"I'll try. But if I can't, have a good time."

Peggy's arms wrapped around his neck tightly. The kiss that followed was nothing like anything they'd shared in the two months they had been together. He suspected the long cold shower he'd be taking wouldn't be enough to stop his dreams of her.

There were at least a dozen levels of blues he'd encountered since he started studying music at age eight. Mick had played every one of them at the club last night.

Glancing at his watch that he'd left on the kitchen table early this morning, he realized it was too late to make Mass at the local church. He didn't get there for every Sunday or Holy Day, but he considered himself a practicing Catholic. Thinking of his conversation with Peggy, the cross he wore so faithfully felt very heavy on his bare chest right now.

Finishing his third cup of coffee, he was glad Frank had already left with Julie for their weekend away. He still had ten hours to kill before he had to be at the club again. Maybe a couple of hours at the beach would relieve some of his restlessness. The growing frustration was a different problem that had no immediate solution.

He laughed remembering how he had to politely decline Lillian and Viv's not so subtle offers to comfort him for the night. The simple comfort he wanted was out of his reach until Monday night.

Two sharp knocks on the front door brought him back to reality. His frustration turned to red-faced embarrassment when he opened the door and saw Peggy.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," he said, not masking his surprise well at all.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course."

Peggy walked in quickly and Mick closed the door behind her. When they were facing each other again, it only took a slight movement of Peggy's eyes downward to get his brain working again.

"Give me five minutes. Okay?"

With a tiny smile, she answered, "Okay."

Three and a half minutes later, Mick hurried out of his bedroom, expecting to find Peggy comfortably seated on the over-stuffed, sagging couch that took up most of the living room space. Instead she was standing in the doorway between the two rooms.

"Hi," she said with another hesitant smile.

The jeans he'd put on over his underwear gave him the courage to stand next to her and smile. "We already had that part of the conversation."

"Right," she smiled back self-consciously. Looking around the room, her hands clasped together nervously.

"Is everything okay at home?" he asked concerned.

"Oh, yes, fine. Momma got a long letter from Henry. He's a little banged up. Almost got a Purple Heart," she said with a little laugh. "But he's glad he didn't, so he can stay where he is."

"That's good news." Mick watched her as she began taking small pacing steps around the room. "Peggy?"

She looked over at him sharply.

The words almost catching in his throat, Mick asked, "Why did you come back so early?" The intense thoughtful look he saw on her face made him hope that her answer would be what he'd been waiting very patiently to hear her say.

With a deep exhale of breath, she said, "I couldn't stand being away from you."

He stepped closer, planning to touch her then stopped when he saw her eyes become misty as if she was going to cry.

"I know you must think I'm a prude because of the way I act when Julie and Frank are being so physical. But I'm not. It's just that, they make it look so easy." She moved closer, the wavering emotions suddenly focused tightly on him. Resting one hand lightly on his chest, she asked, "Mick, have you ever…?"

"No," he said very simply.

"Really? I thought, with all the women I see look at you, that you've done it at least a few times."

"I've been waiting to fall in love with someone before I do."

"Me too," she laughed lightly.

Now Mick did move close. "We can learn together, Peggy. That is, if you love me as much as I love you."

"I do, Mick Sullivan. I love you so much."

Gently, Mick reached back and took her tightly wrapped braid of hair in his hands. Slowly, he slid the bright pink ribbon off and began taking apart the carefully plaited sections of pale hair with his deft musician's fingers. Peggy sighed softly each time his hands brushed her skin. After running his fingers through her loosened hair so that it fell across her shoulders, his hands moved carefully down her body and circled her waist.

Peggy placed her warm hands on his bare chest on either side of the medal, tentatively at first then sliding the palms up caressingly until they rested on his shoulders.

Leaning in, their mouths came together. The sweet kiss became deeper as they let go of the constraints they had held onto for too long. Mick felt Peggy's rising hunger aggressively matching his. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to his bedroom.

November 1942

Mick had been leaning against the front of Frank's 1932 Ford Model B coupe since they'd punched out at seven that morning. He watched his friend start another pattern of agitated pacing around the parking lot, down rows and between cars. He'd chosen to keep his arms tightly folded across his chest while they waited for Julie and Peggy.

Abruptly, Frank stopped in front of him. "How can you be so calm, Mick?"

"I'm not."

"Coulda fooled me!"

Mick clamped his jaw tightly, not wanting to let out the rage that had grown since Peggy had first told him what was going on during work hours over the past few weeks. She wasn't the type of person to engage in idle chatter and gossip. Her words were always meaningful and direct with deep conviction, so he knew what she'd been telling him was true. In the beginning, hHere had been the listener she had needed as the situation with their new shift foreman and the women employees had escalated.

When she'd told him what happened four days ago to one of the women in her section, he'd agreed with her decision to take the matter to management. He was keeping his personal anger under control but it was hard. Now that Peggy was lead person for her section, she'd have to deal with the man more closely. It made her a very big target and he didn't like that one bit. He knew what he'd do if anyone hurt her.

"Word's gotten around, and not just on our shift. If management doesn't do anything about Davis, all the guys with wives and girlfriends will make sure he isn't here much longer."

Mick looked at Frank, letting the implication in his friend's words just hang in the morning air. He saw Peggy, Julie and two other women walk out of the plant closely surrounding a petite woman he knew only slightly. Peggy and Julie hugged the woman. After some brief conversation, the other three women walked away.

Julie and Peggy had barely reached them when Frank asked, "What happened, Peg?"

"He got off with a warning," Peggy answered with a suppressed anger none of them had ever seen in her.

"What about Alice?" Frank asked stunned.

Julie's high-pitched voice didn't even pretend to be civil, "She quit! She was too afraid, to press charges, and of what he might do next!"

Leaning against Mick, Peggy said, "With her husband overseas, she has to think of her little girl first."

Mick felt his lover's body begin trembling. He couldn't tell whether it was her personal anger or a natural feminine revulsion over what the foreman had gotten away with. He pulled her closer comfortingly.

Frank hugged Julie and kissed her cheek. "Let's get the hell out of here."

At the gate, Frank peeled out onto the street much faster than the posted speed limit on the company grounds.

"Slow down, Frank. You're not racing with your old high school buddies anymore," Julie said with a loving patience she'd cultivated in the year and a half she and Frank had been together. Turning her head toward the back seat where Mick and Peggy were, she said, "By the way, happy birthday Mick."

"Thanks," he said absently pulling Peggy closer against him.

Peggy's body lay spread-eagled on top of Mick's, her breathing heavy and her skin slick with sweat from their hard lovemaking. He hadn't expected to find himself in her bed this early on his birthday, but events had conspired otherwise.

She'd said very little as they shed their work clothes and climbed into the tub. While she adjusted the water, he had carefully drawn the shower curtain.

The warm water cascaded down their bodies, cleansing, comforting and erotic. Soapy hands on familiar skin became heavy foreplay. Hair dripping, towels barely covering, they'd fallen across her bed.

Mick knew exactly when Peggy's anger had shifted into pure driving passion. Her need for him escalated to an aggressiveness that made him blind with desire for her. His hands and mouth couldn't get or give enough until, finally, he was on his back, her demanding limbs pinning him down. When he felt every part of her highly aroused body begin to shudder around him, he had quickly followed her over the edge.

It took several minutes for the blood pounding in his ears to ease and for his voice to remember how to make sounds again. Between hard breaths, he said, "I won't mind if you get angry like this more often, as long as it isn't at me."

A deep laugh rumbled through her prone body then she slid off Mick onto her back. Her words slipped out between her own heavy breaths, "This isn't exactly what I was planning for your birthday present. There was supposed to be a special breakfast, cake and candles, and music."

Mick lay on his side facing her. His fingers delicately pushed the damp strings of hair back from her face. "You are all the birthday present I want, this year and every year, as long as we live. I'm so very proud of you," he whispered and his mouth began traveling down her pulsing throat to her still flushed breasts.

"Your new beard tickles," she giggled.

Working his way back up to her mouth, Mick enjoyed the trembles and deep-throated sounds she made as he teased her skin with his rough growth of facial hair. Facing her again, he grinned, "Are you saying you don't like my mature musician look?"

Peggy tangled her fingers tightly in his thick wavy brown hair. "I love the longer hair now that you're an old man of twenty."

Very seriously, he said, "Long hair, yes. Beard, no." After a small pause, he added, "Would you mind if I keep the beard until Thanksgiving? I want to see my Mom's reaction when we walk in the house."

With an equally straight face, she said, "On one condition."

"I'm afraid to ask." When Peggy just smiled suggestively, Mick started laughing.

December 1942

The apartment complex was so quiet, he could easily hear the light traffic from the main road. Frank and Julie were visiting their families and wouldn't be back until very late. It was still early on this Christmas Day evening, but he'd told his parents he needed to leave. Peggy had promised to be back early from her family's holiday celebration so they could have as much time together as possible. Their three p.m. shift start tomorrow would come way too soon.

His parents had been puzzled that Mick hadn't gone with Peggy to spend the day with her family. They would have missed having them for Christmas Day dinner after the happy time they'd spent at Midnight Mass, but they would have understood. It only took a few pointed questions from his mother before he told them what the situation was with Peggy's father. There was no hesitation from either of them in letting him know how much they'd come to care for her. As he'd told Peggy, the religion issue wasn't an issue at all for them. When he told his parents that he planned to ask Peggy to marry him, they were delighted.

It had occurred to him that she might say "no". Despite the deep bond that had grown between them, she was still the sweet little country girl brought up in a certain tradition, required to respect and obey her parents. He knew if she went against them, it could cause a total break between her and her family. He would never ask her, but he knew she might have to make that choice.

The glimmer of headlights slowly crawled along the gravel pathway from the complex entrance. The lights grew steadily brighter as they approached the front of his apartment unit. Mick blinked from the glare as he looked out from the porch step. Then the headlights went out and the engine was silent.

Peggy came up the three wooden steps to the porch and sat beside Mick. Holding out his car keys, she said, "Thanks for the loan."

"No problems?"

"With the car? No."

Mick caressed her cheek and kissed her hungrily.

"Your hands are cold. How long have you been out here?"

"Awhile. I was impatient."

"How about some hot cocoa?"

"Not what I had in mind," and he kissed her again.

Laughing softly, Peggy stood up and held out her hand. "Hot cocoa first, Mr. Sullivan."

Taking her hand, he stood up. "I'm Mick. My father is Mr. Sullivan," he said teasingly then nuzzled her neck.

Moving away from Mick's hungry mouth, Peggy took his hand then pulled him close again. Arm in arm they went inside.

The tiny kitchen was barely big enough for two people to move around in. Mick leaned back against the sink as Peggy worked at the stove. Excitedly she told him about the lengthy letters her family had received from her brothers. That they'd made it through the first year of the war in the Pacific was a blessing.

"Momma really liked the robe your mother helped me find. And Daddy appreciated the new pipe."

"Did your sister like her gifts?"

"Elizabeth loved the bone china guardian angel. She's never had anything so pretty. She told me to thank you very much," and she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"You told her about me?"

"She was asking me so many questions, about the angel, why I picked the "I Know Why" record, and why I hardly come home anymore."

"Does she understand about us?"

"She thinks we're very romantic, like star-crossed lovers."

Shyly, Mick asked, "She doesn't know that last part is for real, right?"

"No. But my Momma guessed that I'm seeing someone. She told me to be careful."

Caressing her cheek, he said, "You know I'll always take care of you and keep you safe, Peggy."

"I know."

Giving the simmering hot cocoa one last stir, Peggy poured it into the two cups waiting on the small tray on the counter. In the living room she put the tray on the two-tiered mahogany end table next to the couch. She handed Mick one of the cups then picked up the other and took a sip.

"The tree is beautiful, Mick."

"It's pretty scrawny in the daylight. At night the lights hide all the bare spots."

Peggy put the cup back on the tray and got up. She knelt down next to the small tree. "You didn't open my gift," she said facing him and holding out the white tissue paper wrapped box.

Mick joined her on the bare floor next to the tree. "It wasn't really Christmas without you here."

Holding the package out eagerly, she said, "Please, open it now."

Smiling, Mick untied the red ribbon and ripped away the tissue paper. He lifted the lid of the flat rectangular box. Very carefully, he took the colorful sheet music out. "A 1915 copy of "The 'Jelly Roll' Blues". I didn't think there were any left." In amazement he asked, "Where did you find this?"

"Your mother knows of a small music shop downtown that specializes in collectables like that. As soon as I saw it, I knew it had to be yours."

Mick put the sheet music back in the box then pulled Peggy into his arms. "Thank you so much." Excitedly, he let her go and said, "Wait right here."

In the kitchen he took a large bouquet out of the refrigerator then hurried back to the living room. "These are for you," he said handing Peggy the flowers.

Peggy rested the bouquet in her lap and carefully opened the florist paper. "Oh, Mick. They're beautiful," she said breathlessly. Taking one of the deep pink long-stemmed roses out of the bouquet, she brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply.

Mick reached under the tree for the small blue velvet box he'd put there that morning. Opening the lid, he held it out to Peggy. "I would be deeply honored, Miss Barnes, if you'd agree to be my wife." When Peggy just stared with her mouth open, Mick added, "It's a Claddagh ring. It has certain meanings, depending on how you wear it."

The surprised look on her face changed from a happy smile to an odd frown. Confused, Mick said, "I hope this doesn't mean you're going to turn me down."

"Oh, no. I'd never do that. I love you too much."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Last night, when you and your parents went up to the alter to receive Communion, I felt so alone, like I didn't really belong there with you."

"That's not true, Peggy."

She put her fingers on his lips. "Just hear me out, please." She rested her hands on top of the bouquet and absently began pulling at the petals of one of the roses. "I've been asking Frank questions about your church. About the sacraments. I know I'd have to take instruction first."

"Are you saying you want to convert?"

"The day we marry, I want to live in your world completely."

"You don't have to convert for us to be married."

"I do if I want to share everything with you. And I do if I want to raise our children to believe what you believe."

"Peggy, I understand, and I love you even more for caring about our future so deeply. But what about your family?"

"I may lose them, Mick. I know that. But you and our life together come first." With deep conviction, Peggy said, "I'd like you to come with me New Year's Day to tell my parents we're getting married."

Mick took the ring out of the box. Without hesitation he slipped the Claddagh, facing out, onto the third finger of her left hand. "Now we're officially engaged. We'll go see your folks after we talk to Father Cassidy about you taking instruction. Okay?"

Peggy went into Mick's outstretched arms. The lights of the tree glowed softly as they laughed and held each other tightly.

May 1943

The year 1942 had ended with an abrupt but justified resolution of the foreman problem to Mick's great relief. The police accomplished what the women hadn't been able to when they hauled Davis off in handcuffs during a shift one night for a crime he hadn't been able to evade.

New Year's Day 1943 started a mixed series of events, both good and bad, in Mick's life. The war news was heavily censored with speculation of coming major action in both Europe and the Pacific. The number of contracts to build aircraft for other companies had mushroomed almost overnight. Along with established gas rationing, food rationing was restructuring daily life. Few people minded since the war effort was the primary objective for everyone across the country. Luckily for clubs like the one his combo played at regularly, beer wasn't rationed.

Peggy had been right about her family's reaction to their engagement. Her mother's cautious acceptance and her sister's innocent happiness for them ended when her father sharply forbid her to ever enter their home again as long as she was involved with Mick. The word 'Catholic' was never spoken but they all knew that was the real reason for her banishment. She had stoically kept her tears under control to spare her mother and sister greater pain.

They'd gone to his parents' home afterwards to announce their engagement to them. The contrast in emotions between the two families was so overwhelming, Peggy was able to let her tears out freely in his mother's comforting arms.

Mick had learned some very special lessons about the women in his life over the next few months. Mrs. Barnes and Elizabeth regularly found ways to spend time with Peggy despite risking Mr. Barnes' formidable anger. He was especially pleased at his mother's willing collusion with her soon-to-be daughter-in-law in making those times happen. The closeness that had grown between Mrs. Sullivan and Peggy was so filled with love, he was almost jealous.

That feeling passed quickly as he realized how Peggy's presence was bringing them even closer as a family. Mick's passion for music and his leaving home to pursue his dream of being a professional musician had created a void between him and his quiet, self-contained engineer father. The skills he was using now at the plant he'd learned from him growing up. Father and son were again finding new building projects to share in the LA house. Despite his and Peggy's heavy work hours, they were spending more and more time with his parents. What she couldn't share with her own family, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan made up for as if she was their own child.

Because of the gasoline rationing, they hadn't been able to visit the small but comfortable cabin his parents had on the California side of Lake Tahoe. A week at the Tahoe cabin was being planned for their honeymoon.

In the gravel driveway of the apartment complex, Mick watched his parents' car turn onto the street. He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the warm late afternoon sun. This first Saturday in May had been such a special day, he'd found himself smiling constantly since he'd gotten up early that morning.

It was Peggy's First Communion day and a major step closer to their wedding. Father Cassidy had already entered their names in the parish book for a Nuptial Mass the Saturday in September after she was to be confirmed. After the church ceremony, they'd gone to the Franklin Hotel for brunch then back to his parents' house for a special celebration.

"Mick?"

Still smiling, he looked at Peggy who was standing closely beside him. She was so beautiful in her white dress, it took his breath away. "What?" he asked softly.

Peggy reached up and began undoing his tie. "As handsome as you look in a suit and tie, Mick Sullivan, I think I've seen enough of this."

"I hate ties."

"I know. Your Mom told me this is the first time she's seen you dressed up since your high school graduation." Bunching the tie up, she put it in his jacket pocket then reached up and undid the first two buttons of his white shirt. She rested her hand on his bare neck the way she had the first time they'd danced at the club.

"And the next time will be our wedding day," he said pulling her against his chest and kissing her softly on the mouth. Feeling the familiar desire sparking, Mick broke the kiss and stepped back from Peggy. "I'll walk you to your apartment so you can change. After I get changed, we'll head for the club for the evening. I feel some great music waiting to come out tonight just for you."

"Please save some of it for when we're in bed later."

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Not tonight, Peg."

"Why?" she asked confused.

Tenderly, he slid his fingers through her loose pale hair and cupped her face in his palms. "Because today is a very special day for you. Your soul is pure and innocent and holy, and I don't want to spoil that."

Smiling she said, "So is yours. We can just sleep, Mick."

"That's never happened when we share a bed."

First he laughed then she joined him. Kissing each other lightly, they clasped hands and walked toward her apartment.

As her unit came into sight, Peggy stopped suddenly, recognizing the aged pickup truck parked at the front. She gasped when the door opened and her father stepped out. He stood beside the vehicle, arms at his sides, his fists clenched.

Mick could feel the tension in her body mixed with a strong dose of apprehension. "Peggy?"

"It's okay, Mick. I'll meet you at your place."

Squeezing her hand, Mick slowly turned and headed back toward his apartment unit. He took his time walking, his back to Peggy and her father. He had gone only halfway back to his apartment when he heard her screech in pain.

Running back, he saw Mr. Barnes holding Peggy by the upper arm. He was very obviously yelling at her. She struggled to get away. It wasn't until he slammed into her father with all his six foot two weight that the shorter man let her go.

Mick saw Peggy stumble and fall against the pickup. It distracted him enough for the older man to regain control of the situation.

Mr. Barnes grabbed him by the throat and growled, "Stay out of this, boy!"

Without hesitation, Peggy forcibly stepped between the two men. As young and strong as Mick was, she knew her father's work-hardened muscular arms could do serious damage. "Both of you, stop it, please!"

Cautiously, each man let go of the other and stepped back. With one last glare at his daughter and Mick, Mr. Barnes got into his truck. The aged vehicle's engine turned over and sped onto the path, the tires spitting gravel as it accelerated.

Not sure what he should say, Mick looked at Peggy for long seconds to gauge her feelings. That was when he noticed the thin line of blood on one side of her neck. His anger flared again and he reached up and touched her damaged skin. "What happened, Peggy?'

"Elizabeth let slip that I was making my communion today. He was already angry, but when he saw the Celtic cross around my neck, he pulled it off and stomped it into the ground with his boot," she explained in an even voice. With tears starting in her eyes, she said, "I'm so sorry, Mick. He destroyed the gift your parents gave me."

Mick picked up the mangled Celtic cross and broken chain. He let his own anger go as soon as he saw his fiancée's growing tears. He slipped the damaged piece of jewelry into his pocket then undid the clasp of the chain around his neck.

"I want you to wear this always, so you'll never forget how much I love you." He placed the chain around her neck and secured the clasp underneath her thick layer of hair.

Holding her tightly against him, Mick heard Peggy sniffling as her tears began to ease. "If we share a bed, I know we can just sleep tonight. I'll give it a try if you will?"

Her tears gone, Peggy wrapped her arms around Mick's neck. "I like that idea. For tonight."

"For tonight," Mick smiled.

August 1943

Frank sat down beside Mick on the loading dock. "The P & W engines finally arrived and they've started unloading them. Looks like some big overtime for the next couple of weeks." When Mick simply nodded, Frank raised his voice to be heard over the steady waves of competing sounds all around them from the plant, "You don't have to go, Mick."

Mick looked at his friend, his jade green eyes steady and serious. "Yes, I do. Peggy's brothers have been in harm's way since the beginning. Now it's my turn. The invasion of Sicily last month is just the beginning of taking back Europe from the Nazis. I need to do my part over there, not just build planes."

"You're one of the top workers here, impossible to replace."

"They'll do fine. And so will you, Frank."

"You're just saying that so I'll feel better about being 4F." The heavy silence between the friends dragged. Finally, with a light laugh, Frank said, "With that Irish temper of yours, I really feel sorry for those Kraut bastards once you get there."

Both men laughed. Another heavy silence went by until Frank asked the one question Mick had been struggling with for the last three days. "Have you told Peggy about the draft notice yet?"

"No. We're going to see that new Lon Chaney, Jr. movie this weekend then go visit my parents. I need to talk to my Dad first. I want the four of us to spend some time together before I have to leave." Mick knew what he was implying, but the reality of what could happen to him was fact.

"I expect a visit as soon as this damn war is over and you're back, buddy."

Mick turned to Frank and held out his hand, "That's a promise."

The summer night hung softly around the Tahoe cabin. The only sounds were the pinging of insect bodies hitting the screens of the open windows.

Mick felt Peggy's increasingly agitated movements beside him in bed. It was only seconds after he came fully awake that her nightmare-fueled shriek filled the room.

Wide awake, Peggy sat up and cried out, "Mick!"

Grabbing her body, he wrapped his arms around her. "It's okay, Peggy. I'm here."

Her terrified eyes focused on his face. Surprise and relief gradually took over then she buried her face on his shoulder.

Gently, his hands moved on her back, soothing and comforting until her heavy trembling stopped.

"I dreamed you were in an old, deserted cemetery somewhere at night, surrounded by vampires, all dressed in Nazi uniforms. They were clawing at you with their fangs, draining you of life. There was blood everywhere. On you. On the ground."

His arms tightened as he very seriously said, "There's no such thing as vampires. It's only in the movies."

Peggy's arms tightened around his neck and she pressed closer to him. The minutes slipped by until the night quiet was restored.

"I'm thirsty," she said quietly.

With a soft kiss to her forehead, Mick got out of bed.

In the main room of the cabin, he saw his father standing in the shadows. The older man followed Mick to the small kitchen area.

"Is Peggy all right?"

Laughing shortly, Mick answered, "Too much "Son of Dracula" movie."

"Your mother is having nightmares too," Mr. Sullivan said simply.

Mick studied his father for several moments. Even in the dim light he noticed how much more grey now streaked his dark hair. "You know I have to go, Dad."

"I know." With a deep sigh, Mr. Sullivan continued, "You're a grown man, Mick, capable of making your own decisions. I'm very proud of you for this one. I do believe it's a mistake to postpone the wedding."

"I understand that you and Mom care about Peggy as if we were already married. But if something should happen to me, she needs to be able to go back to her family, freely and without any attachments of name and religion to me."

"You think Peggy's new beliefs are so shallow that she'd give up the Church without you?" When Mick didn't answer, Mr. Sullivan said, "You don't know that lovely young woman as well as you think you do." Laying a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, he said wistfully, "I'm glad I didn't meet your mother until after I faced the trenches of France in my war."

As the glass filled with water from the pump head at the sink, Mick watched his father go back to the bedroom he shared with his wife. Putting aside his father's advice, he steeled himself for what he had to face with Peggy again.

Back in the bedroom, he sat quietly beside her as she gulped down the water. "Thank you," she said holding out the glass.

Mick took the empty glass and put it on the nightstand next to the bed. Drawing her down to the bed with him, he held her close, enjoying her soft breathing and the scent of her against him. This moment was another one of those memories he wanted to have very close to him when there was an ocean between them.

Peggy's hands mirrored his in slow movements on warm, familiar skin. Her caressing voice matched her hands as she said, "Sometimes I think we love each other too much, Mick. If something ever happened to you…"

Surprised at how steady and composed her voice was, Mick answered in kind, "I always hated Shakespeare's ending to "Romeo and Juliet"."

Her voice trembling ever so slightly, she said, "That's what makes it one of his best tragedies."

"But we're not them, Peggy." He didn't need her to ask or give him a sign. His love simply poured out to her in his deeply needing kiss, to her waiting mouth and inviting neck, across her tender breasts, and down to the warmth pulsing between her legs.

As Peggy's eager body joined him in their fresh passion, Frank's words flitted through his mind, "…as soon as this damn war is over…"

May 1944

The RAF North Witham base in Lincolnshire had become more than a training area for the men of the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions. It was a home away from home as they prepared for their call into battle.

The Saturday afternoon poker game had become a ritual for Mick and his buddies since they'd arrived on the base in January. Faces changed around the table depending on which units were out on training maneuvers in his division and the 82nd. This past week had been quiet which reinforced the growing scuttlebutt that all of them would be moving out to their final embarkation positions very soon.

Looking up from the five cards he held loosely in his hand, Bob Nielsen from the 82nd asked casually, "How long have we known each other, Sullivan?"

Mick eyed the usually cocky older man, more than familiar with his diversionary poker conversations. With nothing to lose, he decided to go for the sarcasm he had refined so well since being drafted, "I'd say too long, since you're always beating me at this game. But this is supposed to be a friendly competition between jumpers, so I'll ask why you're asking?"

Laughing, Bob said, "Just curious about something. I understand why you went from building planes at Hughes to jumping out of them with us. But why a medic?"

Mick laughed back, "I'm good at fixing things."

"That little sidearm you guys carry won't do much against those Kraut 88's."

"I'll manage," Mick answered laconically as he folded his cards and waited.

Mick's closest friend, Joe Stein, poked him in the side. Grinning, he said, "If you 82nd guys need a real medic when we get wherever it is we're going, you come see our Doc Sullivan. He'll fix you up good as new."

Angrily, Steve Baker said in his gruff former auto-worker voice, "Is this how you 82nd guys always play poker?"

"No, it isn't," Johnny Greco, another 82nd player, answered. "Stop flapping your gums, Nielsen. Bet or fold."

With a purposely drawn-out motion, Bob's free hand went to the pile of cash in front of him. "I'll see your ten, Sullivan, and raise you twenty."

"I'm out," Joe and Stu Cameron said in their respective Brooklyn staccato and Tennessee drawl voices.

A disgusted Steve Baker threw his hand down on top of theirs. "Me too!"

Grinning broadly, Bob Nielsen put down his hand showing the four tens he'd been holding for the last two rounds. He stared smugly at Mick. "I've heard that girl of yours back home is really something, Sullivan. I guess that explains it."

"What?" Mick asked coolly.

"Lucky in love, but unlucky at cards."

Mick's serious expression transformed into a huge grin. "Not this time," and he put down his hand, a straight flush with the queen of hearts high.

War whoops broke out among the four other 101st men.

The usually shy, quiet Pete Kowalski, who'd been watching the game since he entered the mess hall, came around the table and smacked Mick on the back. "Great job, Mick!"

"You deserve that, Nielsen," Johnny Greco laughed after throwing down the useless cards he'd previously folded with. He pushed the game pot of cash across the table toward Mick. Standing, he said, "We're heading into town around 1800 to get a jump on the flyboys. This may be our last chance for warm beer and the local girls."

Sullenly, Bob Nielsen got up and stood beside Johnny. "Let's get out of here," he mumbled.

Unable to resist some gloating, Mick said loudly, "Thanks for the generous pot, Nielsen."

Turning on his heel, Bob hurried out of the mess hall. With one last laugh at his division-mate's expense, Johnny followed him.

As the laughter died, Steve Baker growled, "So where's the mail, Kowalski?"

"Oh. Right," Pete stammered as he hurried back to where he'd been standing. He lifted a half-full canvas mail pouch and put it on the empty section of bench. "Rocky said this is going to be it for awhile," he said as he started handing out banded packets of letters and small packages. When everyone was settled with their mail, Pete took out his bundle which included a large brown paper wrapped box.

"What's that?" Joe asked suspiciously.

Opening the white box that had been covered by the brown paper, Pete grinned, "The best salt water taffy made in the State of Jersey, direct from the boardwalk in Atlantic City." He quickly untwisted the ends of a piece of the candy and popped it in his mouth. As the sweetness trickled down his throat, his grin widened.

"I'll take a nice kosher hot dog from Nathan's in Coney Island any day. And a boat of those fries only they make."

"You Yankees don't know what good food is. Come on down to Memphis after the war and I'll introduce you to the best barbecue in the south."

Not wanting to leave Steve out of the conversation he'd started, Pete asked, "What about you, Steve? What food do you miss from back home?"

Startled at the question, the big man from Detroit thought about it then answered, "My Mom's cherry pie. Every Fourth of July she'd make a batch for the GM picnic. That's the first thing I want when I get home."

Talk of home brought a deep silence as the five men finished sorting through their mail. One by one, Steve, Pete and Stu left the group to pursue their personal connections to home.

"Mick?" Joe called softly as he gathered up the deck of cards and put it in its box.

Pulling himself back to the here and now of the base, Mick looked up at him and smiled. "What?"

Joe started sorting the mixed denominations of wrinkled paper money. "That must be some letter."

"It's a long one from Peggy."

"Are you coming with us into town tonight?"

"No. I want to answer this. It might be the last one before we go into combat."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Mick, but were you ever a kid? You're always so serious and focused for a young guy."

With a quiet laugh, Mick answered, "I've just always known what's important and what I want in my life."

"You don't laugh enough, buddy."

"I will, when I get home to Peggy and we're married and working on that family we want so much."

Sliding the now neatly stacked currency close to Mick, the older man patted his shoulder. "Say hello for me," and he headed toward the double doors of the mess hall.

Taking note of the quiet, empty room, Mick went back to Peggy's lengthy letter.

I try to keep myself very busy during the day and it helps in the not missing you so badly. It's the nights that make my body ache more and more without you. As soon as I lay in bed, everything about you takes over. I feel your arms around my body, your hands touching me in all the special ways you have of showing how much you want me. I hear your voice in the simplest words and in your hearty laughter. I rest my head on the pillow and pretend I'm staring into your beautiful eyes, your face close so I can touch it as your lips cover mine with a tender kiss. I remember what it feels like to tangle my fingers in your thick hair, what your skin smells and tastes like at different times, especially when we make love. When every part of me is so exhausted from the memories, I finally fall asleep hugging the pillow, imagining that it's your strong, warm body keeping me safe at night again.

I know I should confess all my impure thoughts about you when I go to confession since we're not married yet. But they're all I have right now. I don't regret becoming your lover, Mick. And I won't stop thinking of you, that way, or any other way, ever.

I do spend a lot of time praying, at church, and in my morning and night prayers, for you, and for my brothers. There's a strong feeling here at home that the places in the world where you and they are will soon explode. I just know you'll be right in the middle of it in Europe when it happens. Am I scared? Yes, very much. But I trust you to fight hard and stay alive.

I'll close this letter now. It's been pretty hot here the last few days so I could use a cool shower right now. I know I've said all these things a hundred times before in my letters, but I know you don't mind hearing again how much I love and need and want you. I didn't think I would ever be this happy or feel as loved as I do with you.

Wherever you are and wherever you go, know that I'm always with you, holding you and loving you, to keep you safe, and to guide you home to me.

All my love forever,

Peggy

Mick's body shook, the emotions Peggy's words had brought out so deep and intense, he could feel everything she'd talked about in her letter with all his senses. That painful regret kicked in again, reminding him how foolish they'd been not to get married before he left for the Army. Their first baby would be due any day now, if only…

His lips trembling, he whispered, "I miss you so much, Peggy."

He folded the pages of the letter and put them back in the envelope. Picking up the pile of money and the rest of his mail, he rushed out the doors and headed for his barracks. He hoped he had enough time to write an answer and get it in the outgoing mail.

April 1945

After slogging through France in the days after D-Day, retreating from the failed attempt to open up the vitally needed Rhine bridges in Operation Market Garden, freezing through six horrible weeks in Ardennes trenches at Bastogne then finally seeing the break through into Germany with victory so close they could all taste it, Mick came face to face with an artillery crater the size of a tank.

At the field hospital, the doctors told him he was lucky. The multiple breaks were nasty but should heal in time with no permanent damage to his left arm. He found himself wavering between anger that he wouldn't be with his buddies to see the end of the European war he'd risked his life for, and euphoric gratitude that he was going home to Peggy, alive and in one piece.

Back in England waiting for transport home, his accumulated mail finally caught up with him. There was a thick bundle of letters with postmark dates going back months. One joint letter from Frank and Julie announced that they'd decided to get married. As he went through the stack of mail, the absence of any envelopes with Peggy's flowing script became more and more distressing. He thought up dozens of reasons to explain what might have happened. His anxiety grew sharper with each letter he read from his parents. Despite how close she was to them, neither his mother nor father mentioned her in any way.

The Army was sending him home, convinced he'd be able to recuperate better there with access to VA hospital facilities. Mick took it all in, right up to the moment he stepped onto the transport, not letting on to anyone how afraid of going home he actually was.

The long voyage across the Atlantic and the three thousand mile trip back to California dragged painfully. He desperately held onto the loving words in Peggy's letter from the previous May, letting each one trigger precious memories of the too-short fifteen months they'd had together before he'd reported for induction.

His father had told him there were no atheists in foxholes. During his ten months on the line, he'd prayed a lot. The belief and hope had sustained him, and had kept him alive. His prayers now were different, deeply personal and pleading. The cool, composed soldier he'd been on those recent battlefields steadily evaporated with each mile west as his fear grew about what he'd find at the end of his journey home.

He was supposed to report to the West LA hospital to be processed for extended medical leave. Instead he went directly home. He was glad his parents weren't there when he dropped his meager Army belongings at the house. Backing his car out of the garage took some maneuvering with just one arm but he managed it, all the while ignoring the persistent throbs of pain from the knitting bones.

The apartment complex in Culver City hadn't changed in the last year and a half. It didn't surprise him when Julie answered the door to the old apartment.

"Oh my God, Mick! You're home!" Julie threw her arms around his neck, carefully avoiding his sling-wrapped arm.

Frank rushed to the door. "Welcome home, buddy!" He held out his hand.

Mick took his old friend's offered hand briefly then said the words he'd been rehearsing for the past three weeks, "Where's Peggy?"

Julie's right hand went to her mouth to cover her shocked intake of breath while her other hand clutched Frank's arm.

"Come on in, so we can talk," Frank said stiffly.

The three friends stood awkwardly in the kitchen. Frank broke the silence and said, "You haven't talked to your parents yet?"

"No." His voice low and hard, Mick asked again, "Where is Peggy?"

Looking him directly in the eyes, Frank said softly, "There's no easy way to say this. She's dead, Mick, and the baby with her."

Mick felt a chill course through his body, more painful than anything he'd experienced during the frozen agony of the Bulge, as his worst fears were confirmed. Totally disoriented by Frank's statement, all he could say was, "Baby? What baby?"

Julie's words came out in sobs, "She didn't tell you she was pregnant because she didn't want you to worry. You had enough to do over there."

Mick glared coldly at Julie. "Tell me what happened."

Bursting into tears, Julie ran out of the kitchen. Frank grabbed Mick's free arm. "Sit down and I'll tell you everything."

Roughly pulling his arm away, Mick sat at the kitchen table.

Frank sat across from him, his hands tightly clenched in front of him. "She made all of us promise to keep her secret, including your parents, so please don't blame Julie and your folks."

A bittersweet twinge of annoyance crossed Mick's mind when he thought of Peggy's misplaced reasoning. They'd talked about having a family enthusiastically. That she hadn't comprehended what the joyous news of a baby would have meant to him while separated from her was so unlike the loving young woman he'd asked to marry him. Knowing he had two precious reasons to get through all the days of pain and horror he experienced would have made his struggle to survive much easier. Wading through his confusion, Mick forced himself to concentrate on what Frank was saying.

With a tearful laugh, Frank began filling Mick in on all the events that had happened since he'd left for the Army. "I've never seen a woman so happy being pregnant. Even with the morning sickness and missing you like hell, Peggy was always smiling. None of us knew about the baby until she started showing. She kept right on working until that kid of yours got so big it was too risky for her to be around all that heavy equipment. Your folks begged her to move into their house. Your Mom even set up a nursery to show her that being with them was the best thing for the baby. But she just wouldn't until you came home and you were married."

"Peggy's a proud, stubborn country girl, and too independent for her own good," Mick whispered more to himself than to Frank. He'd been surrounded by death for ten long months. Coming home to find out he'd lost his reason for living was a cruelty he'd never imagined possible. His guilt began to grow as he recalled his own misplaced decision to postpone their wedding. Sitting forward, he pleaded, "What happened, Frank?"

"The weather was crazy that month. There was a ten day stretch of really bad heat and humidity. It was too much for Peggy and she collapsed. At the hospital they told us there was a problem. They thought she had something called pre-eclampsia and would need to stay there overnight. When we went to see her next day, she was gone."

"Gone? Where? How?"

"The hospital had contacted Peggy's next of kin. Her parents came and took her home that night. Three weeks later, Peggy's father showed up at the apartment. He told Julie Peggy had died in childbirth and the baby with her."

A wildness came over Mick from his vividly fresh days on the battlefield. Standing over Frank, he let out a rage of words, "You should have contacted by parents right away! They would have taken Peggy in! They would have taken care of her and the baby until I got home!"

"It all happened so fast!" Seeing the terrible grief on his friend's face, Frank said, "I'm so sorry, Mick."

Her eyes red and puffy, Julie came into the kitchen carrying a black hat box. "Mr. Barnes only took Peggy's clothes. He left all her personal things," she said tearfully and put the heavy hatbox on the kitchen table. "He also left these," and she handed Mick the Claddagh ring and Celtic cross necklace.

Mick stared numbly at the two pieces of jewelry in his good hand then closed his fingers over them tightly. He had experienced first hand what humans could do to each other in the war. This was the ultimate cruel twist of fate, and he now understood what the hatred he'd seen in Mr. Barnes' eyes that New Year's Day really meant. "Did the old man say whether the baby was a girl or a boy?"

"You and Peggy had a son," Frank answered sadly.

After putting the jewelry in his tunic pocket, Mick picked up the hatbox by the braided antique-gold cord. Looking at Julie and Frank, he managed a very feeble smile. "Thank you." Fighting back tears, he rushed out of the apartment.

He hadn't noticed the new wallpaper in the living room or the thick bouquet of pink tulips in the antique cut crystal bowl on the dining room table. His objective had been the well-stocked liquor cabinet in his father's den.

The two still-sealed bottles of well-aged single malt fit snugly under his cast-covered left arm and in his right hand. As he started up the staircase, he heard the front door open.

Halfway up, his mother's surprised voice called, "Mick!"

He turned, stared stonily at his parents standing in the hallway then continued up the stairs.

"Mick! Wait!" she called anxiously.

Michael Sullivan grabbed his wife's arm as she started toward the stairs. "Leave him alone, Maureen," he said sternly.

As the sound of his father's voice saying his mother's name faded, Mick slammed his bedroom door shut with all his twenty-two year old weight of grief.

To be continued in

Part 2 – Grief and Damnation