Authors: Lyn Cote
Carly
Copyright © 2006 by Lyn Cote
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including
information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may
quote brief passages in a review.
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.
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First eBook Edition: April 2006
ISBN: 978-0-446-55906-5
Contents
PRAISE FOR THE WOMEN OF IVY MANOR
CARLY
“
Carly
is a high-quality story of chaotic experiences and strong characters . . . Lyn Cote has created her most memorable story
yet.”
—Irene Brand, award-winning author of
Where Morning Dawns
and
The Hills Are Calling
“
Carly
is a rich treat . . . as she goes through her own growth and faith journey during the turmoil of the 1990s. Lyn Cote never
disappoints.”
—Lenora Worth, author of
Echoes of Danger
and
After the Storm
“Lyn’s finale in the Ivy Manor series . . . takes you into the heart and mind of a young woman thrown into the uncertain world
of the Gulf War . . . An engaging tale of finding the courage to be the person you have always known was hidden deep within
you.”
—Susan Meissner, author of
Why the Sky Is Blue
“Reading
Carly
is like discovering an interesting neighborhood with great places to shop. You can’t go home until you’ve seen what’s around
every corner.”
—Patt Marr, author of
Man of Her Dreams
“
Carly
is so real, so captivating, once I started reading, I couldn’t put it down! Carly is us . . . struggling to fit in, yet prove
she’s strong enough to stand on her own. You’ll cheer, you’ll cry and you’ll be reminded that nothing is impossible when we
place our trust in God.”
—Valerie Whisenand, aka Valerie Hansen, author of
Her Brother’s Keeper
BETTE
“A powerful story of love, secrets, betrayal, and passion during the tumultuous years of World War II. [Lyn’s] unique blend
of storytelling and dynamic characters brings this era of history to life.”
—DiAnn Mills, author of
When the Lion Roars
“Lyn Cote lured me into realistic, gripping, and sometimes heart-wrenching encounters with an era that has left an indelible
mark on both history and human hearts.
Bette
is truly unforgettable.”
—Kathy Herman, author of the Baxter series and
A Shred of Evidence
“Lyn Cote’s craftsmanship shines in
Bette
. Her beautiful plotting includes textured settings that jet you around the world into the lives of characters so real we
think we know them. Add a heroine we can all admire, and once again the ladies of Ivy Manor grab hold of your heart and hang
on.”
—Lois Richer, author of
Shadowed Secrets
CHLOE
“A romance of epic proportions, absorbing and satisfying, that never lets you forget how the Father takes you just as you
are and that His love can bring you home from the farthest journey.”
—Deborah Bedford, author of
A Morning Like This
and
If I Had You
“Lyn Cote hooked me from the very beginning, then expertly reeled me across the pages . . . Pages full of romance, suspense,
heartbreak, forgiveness, acceptance, and, ultimately, a satisfying ending.”
—Sylvia Bambola, author of
Waters of Marah
and
Return to Appleton
“Lyn Cote’s return to historical fiction is a delight! CHLOE is lyrically written, enhancing a plot that’s teeming with zigs
and zags. Compelling characters take a journey toward happiness reached only by plumbing the depths of despair. This one’s
a keeper!”
—Lois Richer, author of
Shadowed Secrets
To my son and daughter, the brave new generation
I wish to thank the following veterans and soldier for their help in providing the facts that gave my book authenticity—thanks
for your service, honesty, and candor:
Former Army Ranger Chuck Holton
Major Deloris Lynders USA (Retired)
Staff Sergeant Laura Marston USAF (Retired)
Master Sergeant Pamela Trader USAF (Retired)
Captain Christine Valley USMC (Active Duty)
And I heard the Savior say, Thy strength indeed is small, Child of weakness, watch and pray, Find in Me thine all in all.
ELVINA M. HALL (1820-1889)
Greenwich Village, May 1990
C
an we talk about something, Aunty?” Carly Sinclair said, her dry throat making her sound hoarse. In worn, acid-washed blue
jeans, she knelt on her aunt Kitty’s kitchen floor and started scrubbing close to the baseboard. She’d tied her long black
hair in a low ponytail so it wouldn’t get into the bucket or drag on the floor. Her heart throbbed as she scrubbed. She glanced
over her shoulder at her aunt.
In blue sweats, Kitty, who was really her great-great-aunt, shuffled slowly over to the table and eased down across from Carly,
stifling a groan.
“Is your arthritis bothering you today?” Carly asked, pausing. Petite, silver-haired Kitty had always been a special person
in her life. Carly had planned to use this conversation to prepare for the inevitable confrontation with her mother. But maybe
this wasn’t such a good idea. Kitty was really old—nearly ninety-three.
What if my plan really upsets her? What if she has a stroke or something?
“Is that what you wanted to talk about? My arthritis?” Kitty grinned, her eyes crinkling up as they always did. “And can’t
I persuade you not to scrub my floor on your hands and knees?”
Carly shook her head. “You know you don’t like the way Sylvia just swishes the mop around. Everything gets stuck in the corners.”
Two years before, Carly had been shocked to find Kitty on her knees trying to clean the corners herself. Carly had helped
Kitty up and then taken over the job.
“Sylvia does her best,” Kitty repeated for the thousandth time. “This getting old is for the birds. Just look at these hideous
orthopedic shoes I’m forced to wear.”
Carly half-smiled at her aunt’s touch of humor. “Well, I’ve got young knees.” Carly concentrated on swirling the scrub brush,
ignoring the tension in her breast. “I’m sorry it’s been so long—”
“What’s on your mind?” Kitty cut in.
Carly took a deep breath and kept her head down.
Now or never
. “You know how Mom’s been after me to decide what college I want to go to.”
“Yes.”
That’s what Carly had always liked about her aunty. Kitty really listened. Unlike Carly’s mother, Kitty didn’t listen just
long enough to start lecturing Carly. Nor did she just ignore what Carly said and go on as if she hadn’t spoken a word.
Carly dropped the scrub brush in the bucket of warm wash water. She drew in a breath and began cautiously, “I don’t want to
go to college.”
Kitty didn’t answer right away. Then she said, “So, you know what you don’t want to do. What
do
you want to do?”
Carly steeled herself for whatever reaction she might get. She sat back on her heels and looked up, meeting her aunt’s eyes.
“I’ve enlisted in the army.”
Outside, just below the open rear kitchen window, Leigh Sinclair Gallagher, just arriving home from work, wondered if she’d
heard her daughter right.
It can’t be. She wouldn’t do anything that stupid
.
“You’ve enlisted in the army?” Kitty’s surprised voice floated out to Leigh.
“Yes, I got the idea last year at career day at school. They had recruiters from the navy, the army, the air force, and the
Marines. I thought the army looked like the service that got things done.”
Leigh felt as if the ground were moving under her like the earth tremors she’d felt almost twenty years before when she’d
lived in San Francisco with Kitty. The army got things done?
Life
magazine images of the Vietnam War shot through Leigh’s mind. She gripped the railing of the back steps.
“But why not go into service after you have your college degree?” Kitty asked. “Then you’d go in as an officer.”
Leigh couldn’t believe how calm her aunt sounded. Why wasn’t she telling Carly how stupid this was? How ridiculous?
“I don’t want to go to college—yet. I mean, I don’t know what I want to do.”
Leigh heard the clank of metal and the slosh of water and fumed. What was Carly doing? Was she scrubbing Kitty’s floor again?
Why didn’t Kitty let Sylvia retire and get someone younger who could scrub the floor the way she wanted it? Leigh started
up the steps, ready to interrupt.
“But how do you know you want to join the army, then?” Kitty asked.
“It’s just the only thing that’s appealed—”
“Hey, Mommy!” Little Michael ran up behind Leigh. “Hey, you’re home early! Look what I did in kindergarten today!” Her auburn-haired
son waved a watercolor at her. “Look! We painted today!”
Leigh put on a bright smile and examined the mostly yellow painting while the two of them walked up the back steps, inside
past Kitty’s door, and up to the second-floor flat where Leigh, Nate, Michael, and Carly lived.
Leigh thought Michael’s appearance had stopped her, fortunately, from barging in on her daughter and her great-aunt. Carly
was a difficult child and she could be amazingly stubborn at times. Leigh needed time to think about what to do, and she didn’t
trust herself to go into Kitty’s first-floor flat. She knew she wasn’t a good enough actress to fool Kitty that she hadn’t
heard exactly what Carly and she had been talking about.
Michael chattered as she fixed him an after-school snack. Then she decided she needed to enlist her husband’s support. Carly
loved Nate, and Leigh didn’t doubt that Nate could persuade Carly to drop this insane plan.
Please come home, Nate. I need to talk to you. I need you tonight
.
That evening, Nate walked into the apartment in the nick of time to help Leigh get their little son in bed and say good night.
Then he headed straight for Carly’s door to wish her a good night, too. But Leigh whispered to him not to and to follow her.
Her expression was stormy, and he began to expect the start of another one of the endless circular arguments between his wife
and himself. But he wasn’t participating tonight. He was too beat.
“Okay.” Nate leaned against the kitchen doorjamb, looking around for leftovers. His stomach growled. “What’s put you in a
foul mood?”
“Maybe if you’d come home earlier, you’d know.” Leigh opened the refrigerator and then slipped a covered dish into the microwave
above the stove.
Nate just stared at her. How could she make that accusation with a straight face? “You know when I’m working a case, I don’t
keep regular hours. When you have to work late, I don’t nag you about it.”
Leigh gave him her look that said, “Oh, really?” He hated that look. When had they started acting out this endless domestic
drama, comprised of sharp words and unpleasant glares?
Then Leigh surprised him by holding her index finger to her closed lips and motioning him to join her at the table at the
far side of the blue-and-white kitchen, farthest from the children’s bedrooms. “Let’s talk quietly. I don’t want Carly to
overhear us.”
Concerned, Nate moved forward. He picked up a box of wheat crackers on the counter and then sat down at the table. “What’s
wrong?” he asked in a subdued tone. “Did something happen to her at school?”
Leigh flicked away a few grains of salt from the oak tabletop. “You won’t believe this, but this afternoon I overheard her
tell Kitty that she wants to go into the army.”
“You’re kidding, right?” As he munched a salty cracker, he leaned back and let his tired legs stretch out under the table.
“I wish I were. What are we going to do?”
Listening to the whir of the microwave made him even hungrier. “She must have a reason—”