Soldier Red Meyers had looked forward to the day he could return to Hideaway, Missouri, and to his sweetheart, Bertie Moennig. But his dreams were shattered when he was wounded in the last stages of World War II in Europe. Bertie was beautiful inside and out--she deserved a whole man. Red was determined to keep his distance.
But a tragedy on the home front brought the couple face-to-face for the first time in years, and now a dangerous mystery threatened both their lives. As they fought for survival in their tiny Ozark town, Red had to summon the faith and courage to protect the woman he'd never stopped loving.
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
March 10, 2008
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from Hideaway Home by Hannah Alexander
Something was wrong. The news hadn't reached California yet, but Bertie Moennig knew something had happened. She couldn't pinpoint when she'd decided she wasn't jumping to conclusions, but her instincts had never failed her. She would have to wait and see.
It frustrated her no end, because she didn't like to wait for anything. Still...in the midst of this wretched war, she'd grown accustomed to it.
Bertie paused in the noisy workroom of Hughes Aircraft to untie the blue bandana from her head. Her hairnet had ripped this morning, too late for her to get a replacement, and there were strict regulations about keeping long hair restrained.
Now, half of her bun had fallen down over her neck and shoulders. As if this plant wasn't already hot enough! Folks liked to chatter on and on about the wonderful weather in Southern California; those folks must've never worked in a busy, noisy aircraft plant on a sunny day.
Another trickle of perspiration dripped along the side of Bertie's face, and she rubbed her cheek against her shoulder while fiddling with the bandana. She'd take a summer afternoon on the farm in the Missouri Ozarks over working in the heat of this plant any day.
Not that she disliked California. She loved it most of the time--the weather, the ocean, the mountains--but it could be a challenge for a country girl to get used to the crush of people and traffic, even after living here for eight months.
In Hideaway, Missouri, Bertie would've ridden her bicycle the three miles to work, but here she saw more cars passing by the apartment than she would see in a year back home. The crazy pace of Southern California had shocked her upon arrival and--
She winced at the sound of the barrel voice approaching from behind her. Looking around, then up at the department supervisor, Franklin Parrish, she braced herself for yet another earful of complaining.
"Get back to work. And get that hair up," he snapped, looming too close, as he always did. He eyed the blond hair that fell around her shoulders, then his gaze wandered.
Even though he mocked her Ozark accent and figures of speech, he made no secret of the fact he liked her figure well enough.
She tied her hair back on top of her head. "A man in your position should mind his manners, Mr. Parrish," she said quietly, wishing Edith Frost, her roommate, was here. She'd have an extra hairnet.
Franklin leaned closer to Bertie, his face flushed like that of a child who'd been caught snooping in his mother's purse. "And you'd better mind who you're talking to, hillbilly. I can turn you out of here by signing the bottom line of a little sheet of paper."
Bertie met his gaze, trying hard not to show her irritation. After three hundred hours of instruction in St. Louis, she'd been sent here as a trained machinist at the company's expense. If he fired her for no good reason, he'd have to answer for his actions.
"You want these parts to pass inspection, don't you?" she asked. "We still have a war to win against the Japanese, and I aim to help win it." She knew she should smile to take the bite out of her words, but she held his gaze, straight-faced.
Franklin glowered. Bertie nipped on her tongue to keep it from getting her into deeper trouble. Franklin grunted and walked away.
Bertie sighed. Someday, she'd go too far, but she didn't think that day had come yet. Years ago, her mother had tried to tell her that a woman could get more accomplished with honey than with vinegar, but Bertie had found that the two mixed well together. That was especially true for a woman working in a man's world.
Besides, Mom never had depended strictly on honey to get what she wanted. When she was alive, Dad used to brag to the other farmers down at the coffee shop that his wife was full of more sass and vinegar than any plow mule in the county. Just recently, he'd accused Bertie of taking after her mother a little too much.
Those words had made Bertie proud, and it had given her courage to know that she had some of the same strength of character as Marty Moennig.
She felt a pang of homesickness. She missed her father and couldn't stop worrying about him. She'd tried to place this dread in God's hands several times last night and this morning, but her mind kept grabbing it back again. Where was he?
She also missed Red Meyer like crazy, and thinking about him raised her anxiety even more. Though Red was somewhere in Italy, cleaning up after the surrender of the Germans last month, she knew she would feel closer to him if he was back home in Hideaway.