The Lieutenant's Girl: Completely heartbreaking and unforgettable World War Two historical fiction by Shari J. Ryan

Author:Shari J. Ryan [Ryan, Shari J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781803146133
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2022-06-22T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 28

PRESENT DAY—OCTOBER 2018

“Oh, my goodness, Daniel, were you here all day?” The sweet voice is like a melody to my ears, and her face, it’s one I never forget no matter how bad a day might be. I study her as she walks gracefully in a shiny pair of black leather stilettos, matched perfectly with her tailored three-piece suit. My granddaughter has the word success written in her eyes. Her confidence plays a fine line between playful and serious, but no one could mistake her look for anger. She speaks softly like her grandfather but owns her contrasting freckles that stand out against her sun-bleached hair. Of course, it’s rare to see Makena with her hair down since she believes in keeping her face free from distraction, but when she lets it down, the ringlets I used to coil around my fingers still dangle halfway down her back. It’s hard to recall when she transitioned from a giggly little girl to this poised, elegant woman who appears to own the world. I still see the pink cheeks and gaps in her teeth, wet lashes, and crooked pigtails as she ran through the wind on the beach every afternoon until the sun stole every bit of her energy.

“Gran, you sound like you’re losing your voice. Are you feeling okay?” Makena asks.

“I’m not losing my voice, sweetheart. I’ve been helping this nice young man with his research today.” I glance down at his notepad, finding it as blank as it was when he arrived this morning.

“Nice young man, huh?” Makena responds with a smirk. “I suppose he is what you say. In fact, I thought so just a year ago when we got married right on that beach down there.”

I take in Makena’s words, trying to smile in response, but wishing I could recall a word of what she’s talking about. She’s married to this man. I don’t recall.

“Dan, you haven’t taken notes,” Makena points out with a chuckle.

“I have some notes in the car. I jotted them down while she napped earlier. She painted such vivid pictures; I didn’t want to miss anything while looking down at my notebook.”

I readjust my posture, realizing I haven’t moved from this seat since we ate lunch a couple of hours ago. It’s time to stretch my legs. Keiki typically reminds me, but I assume she didn’t want to interrupt my storytelling.

Makena wraps her hands around my elbow and tugs as I push myself up to my feet. “I remember helping people up like this,” I tell my granddaughter. “Now I’m the one who can’t stand up without a good heave-ho.”

“Oh, Gran,” Makena sighs. She keeps her hands nearby and ready in case I stumble like a toddler taking her first steps, but I’m not going far. It’s the time of day when the cumulus clouds roll through, their shapes and buoyancy mimicking the appearance of a hand-drawn cartoon with unique curves and shading. I once thought clouds looked the same no matter where

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