Read Online Across a War-Tossed Sea by L.M. Elliott - Free Book Online

sirree, Bob, I sure did. Right on my keister. I was one cooked goose right then and there. My heart was hers.” He reached for her hand and kissed it. “Always has been.”
    â€œAwwwww.” Patsy, the twins, and Wesley sighed.
    Mr. Ratcliff wagged a finger at his sons. “You be sure to find a lady like this one to love. She hasn’t complained once about my family losing the bank during the Depression or about my having to turn to farming or about my bum leg keeping me from taking her dancing.”
    â€œAnd why would I, Andy, when I have you and five such beautiful children, aaaannnnd”—she drew out the word—“lovely British guests to boot.” She stood to clear dishes.
    Mr. Ratcliff watched her a moment and then turned with earnestness to Patsy. “And you make sure, sweetheart, that your husband loves and respects you as much as I do your mama.”
    Mrs. Ratcliff came back with some fried apples for dessert. “You know I could get a job if they’re offering that much in wages, Andy. Truly.”
    â€œMama,” Patsy interrupted. “You’re already volunteering with the Red Cross rolling surgical bandages. I should be the one to get a job. I can’t be that much help in the fields. I’ve heard Bellwood is hiring women. I can ride my bike there after school.”
    â€œBellwood? That’s no place for a girl, Pats,” said Bobby. “There are a thousand Nazi POWs there now.”
    Charles saw Patsy bristle. Maybe it was because she’d grown up running with a pack of brothers, but Patsy was always infuriated by any implication girls weren’t as brave as boys. Most of the girls around the high school always acted so helpless and kind of silly. Not Patsy. She had a tomboy grin and didn’t bother to pluck her eyebrows or perm her hair like the other girls either. Charles really liked that about her.
    â€œOh really?” Patsy pointed her fork at Bobby. “I’ll have you know that Meredith was just hired as a chauffeur. And she told me that they were hiring women as storekeepers and secretaries, even as guards. What about all those magazines celebrating Rosie the Riveter?”
    â€œBack home, my mum is a volunteer ambulance driver,” Charles spoke up.
    Patsy smiled gratefully at Charles. “There, you see, Daddy?” she said.
    Mr. Ratcliff frowned. “Pshaw, this war is going to take us to hell in a handbasket. Women working at a depot knee-deep in soldiers and POWs. What next?”
    The Ratcliff brothers nodded in agreement.
    Patsy’s cheeks turned red under her freckles, but she folded her hands together like in prayer, and took a deep breath before speaking. “Daddy,” she said, “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Don’t you remember the time the truck had a flat when I was running the twins to Aunt Mamie’s, and I changed it myself? And the time that I—”
    â€œHold on, girl.” Mr. Ratcliff held up his hand to quiet her. As generous as he was, Charles knew Mr. Ratcliff did not like his authority to be questioned. He kept his hand up for a moment. It was calloused from hoeing and fixing farm machinery. But his voice softened to courtliness as he continued, making it easy for Charles to imagine Mr. Ratcliff behind a desk in a vaulted, elegant bank building once upon a time.
    â€œYou’re busy getting your education, honey. You’re the smartest among us. I’d give just about anything to have the money to pay your college tuition, but the reality is you will need a scholarship.” He patted his daughter’s hand. “You focus on that. I just know you’ll be an outstanding teacher or librarian or nurse one day.” He turned to his eldest son. “I just need Robert, here, to be responsible. I need help with our fields.”
    Bobby sighed. “Okay, Dad. I understand. But everyone’s got to chip in, then, with setting up