1022 Evergreen Place - Debbie Macomber [34]
“Maybe,” she agreed with some hesitation. “But don’t you think she would’ve kept the letter notifying her of that?”
“They weren’t married, right?”
“No.” They were engaged; Jacob had left for Europe with the promise that if he made it back they’d be married.
“But if they weren’t husband and wife, the army wouldn’t have notified Joan that Jacob had been wounded,” Mack explained. “The only way she’d learn that was if someone in Jacob’s family told her.”
“There’s nothing here from his family.”
“We still can’t rule out the possibility that he might’ve been wounded. I don’t think we should leap to the conclusion that he was killed in the invasion.”
“What does the book say about D-day?” Mary Jo asked, feeling she was sadly lacking in her knowledge of Second World War history.
“Okay,” Mack said, scanning the information. “The Normandy landings by the Allied forces were the largest amphibious invasion ever undertaken. Wow, listen to this! There were one hundred and seventy-five thousand troops and over five thousand ships. I can’t even imagine what that must’ve looked like.”
“They came from England, didn’t they?” She remembered that much, anyway.
He nodded. “The landings took place along a fifty-mile stretch of the Normandy coast and were divided into five sectors.” He listed them. “I remember something about Omaha Beach and Utah Beach in history class—and from that movie, Saving Private Ryan. That’s where the Americans landed.”
“Oh, yes… Of course.” Mary Jo had watched the movie with her brothers on DVD. The battle-scene action had upset her—and now she knew of someone who’d actually been there, part of the battle. Someone who might have died there. Someone whose handwriting she’d become familiar with, whose thoughts she was privy to.
“I believe the English and Canadians were on Juno Beach and Sword Beach,” Mack went on. “Omaha and Utah were definitely where the Americans landed.”
“Jacob—”
“Jacob wouldn’t have been on the beaches,” Mack said.
“He wouldn’t?”
“He was a paratrooper, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah. He was.” She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, other than that he jumped out of planes.
“Then he must’ve parachuted in behind enemy lines.”
“‘Behind enemy lines,’” she echoed in a hushed voice, hardly aware she’d spoken the words aloud.
Mack glanced over at her. “That doesn’t automatically mean Jacob was killed,” he said again.
“I know, but without another letter after the invasion, it doesn’t bode well.”
Mack didn’t say anything for a minute or two. “Are you sure there wasn’t more than the cigar box hidden under the floorboards?” he eventually asked.
At the time, Mary Jo had been so excited about finding the letters that she hadn’t searched further.
“Maybe we should go and look,” she said. “Want to do it now?”
“Why not.”
She led the way into her bedroom. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that Jacob Dennison had been killed. Perhaps that was why Joan had hidden his letters. She couldn’t bear to part with them, but couldn’t bear to look at them, either.
Mack opened the closet door and got down on all fours to remove the loose planks. Mary Jo doubted that anything else could’ve been hidden inside that small space.
“Do you have a flashlight?” Mack asked.
“Yes, hold on.” She hurried into the kitchen, opening the utility drawer and pulling out the flashlight. Linc had bought it for her and she was grateful because she’d already used it once during a power outage.
When she returned to the bedroom, Mary Jo found Mack lying on his stomach.
“Here,” she said, handing him the light.
Mack stretched out his arm and took it from her.
“Do you see anything?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“You do?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.
“Wait,” he said in a half grunt. Whatever he’d uncovered was in his hands now. He scrambled into a kneeling position and gave Mary Jo what appeared to be a small square with a piece of oilcloth wrapped around it.
“What is it?” she asked, hardly able to believe her eyes.
“Open it and see,” Mack said.
Mary Jo knelt on the floor next