darkness of the pub. The scent of beer brought on a wash of nausea, but she made herself breathe evenly and followed Jack to the bar. A young woman with frizzy dark hair approached.
“We’d like some fish and chips to go,” Jack said.
She flipped her hand. “You Yanks are always in a hurry.”
Jack leaned on the bar and smiled. “We’re in a hurry to help you win this war.”
Red spots appeared on the girl’s cheeks, and she patted down the frizz. “We have the freshest fish and chips in town, but may I recommend the bangers? They’re lovely.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jack said. “Ruth?”
Her stomach balled up. “Bangers? That’s sausage, right?”
“Yeah. Real good.” He squinted at her in the murky light. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I just—I can’t stand sausage. The smell nauseates me.”
Jack studied her, then turned to the barmaid. “Two orders of fish and chips, please.”
With their dinner wrapped in newspaper, they strolled down the street and through the imposing Norman Gate Tower. Jack pointed out arrow slits in the thick stone walls. Then they passed through a circular garden, where an old man sat playing a violin to a group of children.
“A GI!” The children jumped to their feet and ran over. “Any gum, chum? Any gum?”
Jack laughed and pulled a pack of Wrigley’s from his pocket. He passed a stick to each child and sent them on their way.
Ruth had never seen him chew gum. “You buy that just for the children, don’t you?”
“Sure. Why don’t we sit on that wall over there?”
They padded through the grass to an ancient low wall, part of the ruined abbey. Jack laid his jacket down so Ruth wouldn’t snag her stockings on the black, white, and gray stones protruding from the mortar.
Jack unwrapped his dinner. “The oldest buildings in Antioch aren’t even a hundred years old, and here we are sitting on something over nine hundred years old.”
“And Henry the Eighth tore it down in the Reformation.” Ruth gazed around at the clumps of ruins in the grass, some rising ten, twenty feet to hint at a window or doorway. “The stupid things people do.”
Jack chewed for a moment. “Speaking of stupid, did I ever tell you about the business I set up when I was a kid?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I sold rides in Grandpa Novak’s old biplane. I must have taken up half the kids in Antioch, made a lot of money. Only problem was I didn’t ask Grandpa’s permission. When he found out, he gave me a memorable whipping, made me return every cent, and worst of all, he wouldn’t let me fly for a whole year.”
Ruth smiled at his forlorn expression. “Poor baby.”
“Nah, I deserved it.” He pointed a chip at her. “Okay, your turn.”
She took a bite of fish and tried to think of a story. The crispy batter hit her tongue, and then the fish dissolved in her mouth, moist and flavorful, much better than what she used to fry up on the little coal stove.
The little stove. She swallowed and smiled. “There was the time I wanted to play at the beach. Pa couldn’t afford El tickets for all of us, so Ellen and I made our own beach. We shoveled the ash out of the stove and onto the floor. You should have seen Ma’s face. From then on, cleaning the stove was my job.”
Jack’s eyes shone so much, Ruth remembered another story, and they shared laughter over childhood misadventures while they ate. After they finished, they folded up the newspaper, unsure whether the grease disqualified it as scrap paper.
Jack put one foot up on the wall and draped his arm over his knee. “Your childhood was a lot like mine.”
“Alike?”
“Sure. Kids having fun and getting in trouble. Parents who loved the Lord, loved each other, and loved us. What a blessing.”
“I suppose so.” The ruins glowed golden in the evening sun. Jack and May saw blessings everywhere. All Ruth could see was what God took away from her, not what he gave her. However, the blessings were there—her job,
“We’d like some fish and chips to go,” Jack said.
She flipped her hand. “You Yanks are always in a hurry.”
Jack leaned on the bar and smiled. “We’re in a hurry to help you win this war.”
Red spots appeared on the girl’s cheeks, and she patted down the frizz. “We have the freshest fish and chips in town, but may I recommend the bangers? They’re lovely.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jack said. “Ruth?”
Her stomach balled up. “Bangers? That’s sausage, right?”
“Yeah. Real good.” He squinted at her in the murky light. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I just—I can’t stand sausage. The smell nauseates me.”
Jack studied her, then turned to the barmaid. “Two orders of fish and chips, please.”
With their dinner wrapped in newspaper, they strolled down the street and through the imposing Norman Gate Tower. Jack pointed out arrow slits in the thick stone walls. Then they passed through a circular garden, where an old man sat playing a violin to a group of children.
“A GI!” The children jumped to their feet and ran over. “Any gum, chum? Any gum?”
Jack laughed and pulled a pack of Wrigley’s from his pocket. He passed a stick to each child and sent them on their way.
Ruth had never seen him chew gum. “You buy that just for the children, don’t you?”
“Sure. Why don’t we sit on that wall over there?”
They padded through the grass to an ancient low wall, part of the ruined abbey. Jack laid his jacket down so Ruth wouldn’t snag her stockings on the black, white, and gray stones protruding from the mortar.
Jack unwrapped his dinner. “The oldest buildings in Antioch aren’t even a hundred years old, and here we are sitting on something over nine hundred years old.”
“And Henry the Eighth tore it down in the Reformation.” Ruth gazed around at the clumps of ruins in the grass, some rising ten, twenty feet to hint at a window or doorway. “The stupid things people do.”
Jack chewed for a moment. “Speaking of stupid, did I ever tell you about the business I set up when I was a kid?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I sold rides in Grandpa Novak’s old biplane. I must have taken up half the kids in Antioch, made a lot of money. Only problem was I didn’t ask Grandpa’s permission. When he found out, he gave me a memorable whipping, made me return every cent, and worst of all, he wouldn’t let me fly for a whole year.”
Ruth smiled at his forlorn expression. “Poor baby.”
“Nah, I deserved it.” He pointed a chip at her. “Okay, your turn.”
She took a bite of fish and tried to think of a story. The crispy batter hit her tongue, and then the fish dissolved in her mouth, moist and flavorful, much better than what she used to fry up on the little coal stove.
The little stove. She swallowed and smiled. “There was the time I wanted to play at the beach. Pa couldn’t afford El tickets for all of us, so Ellen and I made our own beach. We shoveled the ash out of the stove and onto the floor. You should have seen Ma’s face. From then on, cleaning the stove was my job.”
Jack’s eyes shone so much, Ruth remembered another story, and they shared laughter over childhood misadventures while they ate. After they finished, they folded up the newspaper, unsure whether the grease disqualified it as scrap paper.
Jack put one foot up on the wall and draped his arm over his knee. “Your childhood was a lot like mine.”
“Alike?”
“Sure. Kids having fun and getting in trouble. Parents who loved the Lord, loved each other, and loved us. What a blessing.”
“I suppose so.” The ruins glowed golden in the evening sun. Jack and May saw blessings everywhere. All Ruth could see was what God took away from her, not what he gave her. However, the blessings were there—her job,
Similar Books
