With Every Letter (Wings of the Nightingale Series #1)by Sarah Sundin
Lt. Mellie Blake is a nurse serving in the 802nd Medical Squadron, Air Evacuation, Transport. As part of a morale building program, she reluctantly enters into an anonymous correspondence with Lt. Tom MacGilliver, an officer in the 908th Engineer Aviation Battalion in North Africa. As their letters crisscross the Atlantic, Tom and Mellie develop a unique friendship despite not knowing the other's true identity. When both are transferred to Algeria, the two are poised to meet face to face for the first time. Will they overcome their fears and reveal who they are, or will their future be held hostage to their past? And can they learn to trust God and embrace the gift of love he offers them?
Combining excellent research and attention to detail with a flair for romance, Sarah Sundin brings to life the perilous challenges of WWII aviation, nursing, and true love.
Read an Excerpt
With Every LetterA Novel
By SARAH SUNDIN
RevellCopyright © 2012 Sarah Sundin
All right reserved.
Chapter OneWalter Reed General Hospital Army Medical Center Washington DC October 2, 1942
Lt. Philomela Blake believed mornings should start gently, with the nighttime melting into golden sunshine and birdsong luring to wakefulness.
Most nurses on the morning shift assaulted the patients with electric light and harsh voices, but not Mellie.
She pulled the cord of the blackout curtain and sang "At Last," and the volume of her tune built with the intensity of light. Hurting and healing men deserved a soft hand.
On the nearest bed, Corporal Sloan shifted under the blankets. He'd undergone an appendectomy late last night. "Any dame ..." He cleared his throat, his voice raspy from the ether. "Any dame with the voice of an angel must have a face to match."
Mellie's song and her hands stilled. How many soldiers dreamed of a beautiful nurse who might fall in love with them?
He rubbed his eyes, looked at her, and his smile flickered.
Papa called Mellie his exotic orchid, but American men seemed to prefer roses.
Mellie opened the blackout curtains all the way. "How do you feel this morning, Corporal?"
"Um, fine. Fine, ma'am."
"I'll be back with your morning meds." She patted his shoulder and headed down the aisle to the nurses' station. Her cap felt loose, so she adjusted a bobby pin that clamped it to the helmet of thick black braids coiled around her head. Her crowning glory, Papa called it.
Poor Papa. Acid ate at her stomach, and Mellie dove into song to neutralize it. The Filipino folk song "Bahay Kubo" reminded her of traipsing through the jungle with Papa on his botanical excursions. It reminded her of his love, as warm as the Filipino sun. It reminded her to pray for him. If only he hadn't sent her stateside a year ago. If only he'd come with her. No news had arrived since the Japanese conquered the Philippines a few months before, and the State Department and Red Cross hadn't found out Papa's fate. How could she go on without him?
Work kept her busy, but worry pricked up and made her restless.
She opened another blackout curtain and gazed out onto Walter Reed's manicured grounds. A year in Washington DC was enough. So much more of the world waited to be explored. The war thrust barriers between her and adventure, but it offered new paths as well.
The door to the ward opened, and Lieutenant Newman, the chief nurse, leaned in. "Lieutenant Blake? Please come to my office on your lunch break."
"Yes, ma'am." The meeting had to be about her upcoming transfer to the Air Evacuation Group forming at Bowman Field in Kentucky. A smile climbed too high on Mellie's face, and she covered her mouth.
When the Army Air Force announced plans to train nurses to assist in air evacuation, Mellie had begged the chief for a recommendation. Flight nurses would fly into combat areas, load the wounded, and care for them in the air. They would be stationed all over the world. Perhaps even in the Pacific, close to Papa.
Next month, Mellie would begin training. That thought put an extra trill into her song.
"Must you?" At the nurses' station, Lieutenant Ingham scrunched her heart-shaped face into a frown. "That infernal singing. Honestly, Philomela, we're all sick of it."
"Sorry." Mellie's cheeks warmed, and she picked up the tray of meds she'd prepared earlier. How could she stop doing what she was born to do, something that provided relief to her patients? When she sang, pain-wrinkled brows smoothed. She returned to the ward and her song, but in a softer voice.
Philomela meant "nightingale," and her first storybook was The Nightingale by Hans Christian Andersen. The emperor of China treasured a pet nightingale and its song. But when he received a mechanical singing bird, he forgot the nightingale, which retreated to the lonely forest. While the little bird in the story longed to return to court, Mellie felt most at home in the forest, bringing musical comfort to passersby.
Next month, she'd enter a new forest.
* * *
"I can't believe you missed last night's meeting, Philomela." Lieutenant Newman's big blue eyes stretched even wider.
"I thought it was optional. For a morale program." Mellie shifted in her seat in the chief nurse's office.
"It is, but I want everyone to participate. You do want to participate, don't you?"
"Well, I ..." She lowered her gaze and straightened the skirt of her white ward dress. "I didn't really consider it."
The chief walked to the window and heaved a sigh. "Oh, Philomela, I don't understand you. You're an excellent nurse, but I simply don't understand you."
"It's a letter-writing campaign, isn't it? To men we've never met?"
Her lovely face lit up. "Yes. To the officers in my husband's unit. It's an Engineer Aviation Battalion based in England. It will all be anonymous. Isn't that fun?"
England sounded like fun. Writing to a strange man did not. "I wouldn't know what to say to someone I've never met."
"Say anything you like. I imagine you write a nice letter. You speak excellent English for a foreigner."
Mellie restrained her sigh. Always with one foot in one land, one foot in the other, never belonging in either. "Actually, ma'am, I'm an American. I was born in the Philippines, yes, but my father's American and my mother was half-American, half-Filipino."
"Yes. Well then." The chief fingered the window casement. "Well then, I'm sure you write a lovely letter."
Mellie rolled the hem of her skirt in her fingers. "But I've never ... I've never written to a stranger before."
"He's hardly a stranger. He's an American officer. All the other nurses are excited about it. I need one more volunteer, or one poor gentleman won't receive a letter."
She stretched her skirt back down over her knees. "That would be horrible, but maybe ... maybe someone would be willing to write two letters."
"Come now." Lieutenant Newman sat on the edge of her desk, right in front of Mellie, and she leaned close. "Please, Philomela? I would be so disappointed if you didn't participate. Especially after I recommended you for the Air Evacuation Group. I didn't mention how you don't have any friends here. Perhaps I should have." She glanced down to the desk and traced her finger back and forth, as if erasing her recommendation.
Mellie's throat swelled shut. "But—but why would any man want to hear from me?"
The chief flashed a bright smile. "Remember, it's anonymous. No names, no pictures. Just a nice letter to encourage our boys overseas."
Mellie dropped her chin and squeezed her eyes shut. She felt so awkward in social situations.
"Oh please, Philomela? Please? It's only one letter."
Mellie lifted her head. Outside the window, the horizon beckoned. "One letter," she whispered.
* * *
"One letter." Mellie groaned. The blank sheet of airmail stationery taunted her. "Lord, what can I say?"
In the hallway, a group of nurses squealed and giggled. Mellie peeked around the post of her bunk. The ladies hooked arms and strolled away, laughing and chatting, off to some fun activity.
Longing tugged at her chest. She set aside the stationery and stroked the worn burgundy cover of the scrapbook she used as a writing surface. On the black pages inside lay her childhood friends, who had kept her company on countless lonely days at home and abroad. She flipped through, and her friends offered paper smiles just for her, paper ears to listen, and paper eyes that accepted her.
Children from magazines, catalogs, and newspaper articles. They'd never played hopscotch with her or whispered their secrets to her.
A thin substitute for friendship, but it was all she'd ever had. Overseas, she'd been the only child on Papa's expeditions. Stateside, the boys and girls found her odd and foreign.
Halfway through the scrapbook, the faces shifted from children she had needed to children who needed her.
The first, a little fair-haired boy, had started her mission of mercy. His mother stood behind him, one arm clutched around his shoulders, her face angled to the side, chin high and brave and fearsome. The boy wore short pants and a little jacket. One foot toed in. One hand grasped his mother's forearm around him, the other hung limp by his side. With his chin dipped, he looked at the newspaper photographer as if his life had been stripped from him.
It had. His father had just been sentenced to death for murder.
The nation cheered. No one cared about the boy. So Mellie cut his picture out of the newspaper, pasted it in her scrapbook, and prayed for him.
Others followed. A hollow-eyed little girl with stringy blonde hair, riding an overloaded jalopy from the Oklahoma dust bowl to points unknown. A colored boy blinded by a fire, his eyes swathed in bandages. A Filipino girl, her face disfigured by a tropical disease.
Mellie prayed for them every day. While the other children had provided a sense of companionship, these children provided her with purpose. What if she was the only person praying for them? Even in her isolation, she could still extend mercy.
She glanced at the empty sheet of stationery on her bed.
Across the ocean, perhaps another young man needed her. What if a letter could ease his fears or worries or loneliness? What if her prayers could strengthen him?
What if he wrote back?
Mellie's breath caught. On paper it wouldn't matter if she were a rose or an orchid. Perhaps a friendship could develop, still a paper friendship, but more than she'd ever had before.
"Lord, give me the right words." She set the stationery on top of her scrapbook and put pen to paper.
Chapter TwoHMS Derbyshire Liverpool, England October 24, 1942
Lt. Thomas MacGilliver Jr. prepared to walk the plank.
"Ahoy there, mateys." Tom stood on the superstructure of the British transport ship and grinned. Below him on the deck, the men in his platoon gaped and laughed. He turned to Privates Earl Butler and Conrad Davis behind him. "Got it?"
"Sure thing, Gill." Butler clamped the four-inch pipe under his beefy arm and gripped it in his hands. The length of pipe crossed the metal railing for the superstructure and stretched over the deck ten feet below.
"Hey, boss!" Private Bill Rinaldi stood beside Butler. "You're going swimming with the sharks."
"Yeah. Watch out for those English sharks. On a ship." Tom climbed the railing, held on to it, and arranged his bare feet on the pipe. The rough texture from corrosion in the salty air would help him keep his footing. He stretched his arms wide and slowly rose to standing.
Mumbled praise built into a low chorus, and Tom smiled. The men needed a diversion. Any day now the U.S. 908th Engineer Aviation Battalion would sail to North Africa for Operation Torch, although only the officers knew the destination. In a few weeks, the men would know the taste of battle.
"This, boys, is what a cantilever bridge is like." He stepped forward like a tightrope walker, curling his feet around the rusty pipe. Another step and the murmurs grew. His construction work on Pittsburgh's bridges to put himself through engineering school had paid off. "The bridge can handle my load because Butler and Davis provide a counterweight. Imagine another segment coming from the other direction toward me, also balanced by a counterweight. Where the two segments meet, you only need a pin to join them."
He stepped to within a foot of the end, his arms outstretched, and gazed down at the laughing crowd. Everywhere, always a laughing crowd. But never a friend.
Tom cleared his throat and flung a smile back on his face. "As long as you do your calculations and get the right counterweight—and Butler's got plenty of that ..."
Hoots and hollers rewarded him.
"Hey, Gill!" Rinaldi called from behind him. "Did you calculate that Butler's ticklish as a little girl?" He wiggled his fingers near Butler's thick midsection.
"Don't!" Tom squatted and grabbed the pipe. "No, Rinaldi. Don't!"
The pipe wobbled as Butler edged away from his friend. "Don't, or I'll—"
"Should have thought of that before you dumped salt in my coffee." Rinaldi jabbed Butler in the ribs.
The pipe lurched to the side and broke Tom's grip. He grasped for it, but it bounced away. He dropped to the deck, banging his hip and his shoulder.
The men howled with laughter. Tom hoisted himself to his feet and rubbed his sore hip. He'd get a bruise, but it was worth it.
Someone pulled the plug in the basin of laughter, and it all drained away. Tom turned to face Capt. Dick Newman, commander of Company B of the 908th. Tom saluted. "Captain."
"Lieutenant." Newman's dark eyes took in the scene. "Another engineering lesson?"
"Yes, sir. Someone's got to educate these lumps."
"A little less education, a little more discipline." But the corner of the captain's mouth flicked up. He stepped to the side and motioned to the man behind him. "Just assigned a new man to your platoon, Staff Sergeant Larry Fong."
"Hey! What's a Jap doing here?" That voice—Tom's platoon sergeant, Hal Weiser.
Tom settled a smile on Weiser. "Fong's a Chinese name, not Japanese. The Chinese are our Allies, remember? And the sergeant's an American."
"Three generations, sir." Sergeant Fong wore a bright smile. He had some height to him, matching Tom's five foot ten.
Tom extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Sergeant. Welcome to the platoon."
Fong shook his hand. "Thank you, Lieutenant ...?"
The moment suspended in air, the always-too-brief moment when Tom could be one of the guys. Before they knew his name. Mom was right when she discouraged him from changing his name—lying would be wrong—but he still wished he were someone else.
He set his face in the proper cheerful expression. "Lt. Tom MacGilliver."
The sergeant's eyebrows popped up in recognition.
Captain Newman set his hand on Fong's shoulder. "The sergeant will take Weiser's place as platoon sergeant, and Weiser will take Duke's squad, since Duke's in the hospital and won't join our excursion. Fong had a couple years of engineering school at the University of California before he got called up. That's why I put him with you, Gill."
Tom's grin widened. "Cal, huh? I went to the University of Pittsburgh. We can pick each other's brains."
"Sorry, sir. I didn't get past my lower division work. But after the war—can't wait to get back. In the meantime, on-the-job training."
"Great. Glad you're in my platoon." He motioned for the sergeant to come with him and set a path down the starboard side of the ship. He could think of several reasons for the captain's decision, the least of which was to put the engineering student with the graduate engineer. Chinese or not, the sergeant wouldn't be accepted in authority over a squad. And Tom's platoon served as the dumping place for men the other two platoon commanders in the company didn't want. The misfit platoon.
A brisk breeze snaked by, and Sergeant Fong held on to his garrison cap. "Say, Lieutenant, that's a bum rap of a name. Just like MacGilliver the Killiver."
Thank goodness Tom had years of experience smiling over the pain. "He was my father."
"Your ... I'm sorry, sir."
"He left when I was five and was gone when I was seven. Barely knew him. And I take after my mother. Completely harmless."
"Of course. I never—I didn't mean—"
"So what field of engineering are you interested in? I'm in civil."
Fong's face relaxed a bit. "Electrical, sir."
"Good." Tom nodded and leaned on the ship's railing. He gazed around the estuary of the Mersey River, where dozens of British and American transports anchored, holding the Eastern and Center forces for the invasion of Algeria. The Western force would sail straight from the U.S. to French Morocco.
"That would be a good place for a bridge." He pointed northwest to where the Mersey narrowed between Liverpool and Wallasey. "A suspension bridge. The towers and cables would resemble sails, honor Liverpool's nautical history."
The sergeant frowned. "Isn't there a tunnel under the river?"
Tom rearranged his arms on the ship's railing. "Tunnels are so ... impersonal, hiding underground as if the two sides were ashamed to associate with each other. Bridges are visible, personal, proud to make the connection."
Larry squinted at the empty space over the river. "Yeah. Yeah, I see what you mean."
The design flew together in Tom's head. "I want to build bridges all over the world, connect people and places."
Excerpted from With Every Letter by SARAH SUNDIN Copyright © 2012 by Sarah Sundin. Excerpted by permission of Revell. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Meet the Author
Sarah Sundin is the author of A Distant Melody, A Memory Between Us, and Blue Skies Tomorrow. In 2011, A Memory Between Us was a finalist in the Inspirational Reader's Choice Awards and Sarah received the Writer of the Year Award at the Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference. A graduate of UC San Francisco School of Pharmacy, she works on-call as a hospital pharmacist. During WWII, her grandfather served as a pharmacist's mate (medic) in the Navy and her great-uncle flew with the US Eighth Air Force in England. Sarah lives in California with her husband and three children.
and post it to your social network
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews >
Good length, good plot, good editing. Mellie was always feeling sorry for herself as was Tom. This got rather old. I loved the dog. The author did not seem to have a very good outlook on women and their friendships. The book was still good, just not fantastic. This is a Christian book, lots of prayers, verses and a good bit of preachiness. Mellie had trouble with all relationships, Tom did not how to be a leader. They entered into a secret penpal correspondance, which became their lifeline. This is a war story and there is some violence, but it is not gruesome. This is a chick lit book, but not overwhelmingly so, some men might find it enjoyable. It is stand alone and not part of an ongoing series, although there are other war time nurse books. An okay read. AD
This book was good. It was a little slow. Other than that it was good.
As a Teenager I became engrossed with the Cherry Ames Nurse series. I had cousins who were nurses and I had hopes of becoming a nurse myself--That didn't happen--not my gift. But as a daughter, wife, mother, widow,friend and grandmother of service men, this book brought back memories and This book honors our service men and women.
I love Sarah Sundin's books for a few reasons: First, her characters are Christ-based, but also show their human flaws, and I can associate with her characters much better. Plus, she does not write each woman as a flaming beauty as so many authors do; and that really makes me feel better! In this day and time where one's looks can mean the difference between a job or not, or seemingly, I love it that Sundin changes the characters of each book and, in my opinion, seemingly writes them around a character flaw. I may be way off base on that, but that's how I am associating them. Secondly, I love the historical aspect of her books, and she researches the areas and time periods well before she writes the new novel. And lastly, her main characters either know the Lord or they come to know the Lord in the books. So that's three pluses for me! I did think that this particular book dragged a little about 3/4 of the way through, but I liked it nonetheless. The main character, a nurse, faced problems with racism because she was bi-racial, part Filipino. If you want to know more, read the book: I am not going to be like so many and give a book report, so to speak, and tell the entire story. But enjoy!
When I read Sarah's first book, A Distant Melody, I considered it one of the best books I had ever read. But she just keeps getting better! Readers who pick up With Every Letter with high expectations will not be disappointed. The characters are unique and well-developed. Both the hero and heroine start out with huge obstacles that threaten to interfere not just with romance, but with their ability to relate to the rest of the world, for the rest of their lives. The stakes are high personally, but also in terms of their contributions to the war effort. Both of them are in positions to save or lose many lives. The research for this novel alone is mind-boggling, as I discovered as I was whisked all over northern Africa. With Every Letter is another home run for Sarah Sundin. If you are interested in World War 2 history, you simply must read this tale. It's sure to satisfy lovers of historical fiction and historical romance everywhere. ~Jocelyn Green, author Wedded to War
I really love Sundin’s books. They’re all set during World War II and the best description I can come up with to describe them is “the greatest generation.” They’re great stories, but it also feels like I’m reading a tribute to the amazing men and women and the brave sacrifices they made to give us the gift of freedom that we enjoy today.
All spectrums of personalities - from mean bullies to angels. And the Bible messages that made me think and want to be a better person.
You should read it. It is a Christian romance about a young nurse and soldier. Find out who Annie,Mellie,&Tom are. Have fun reading it. ENJOY!!!!
I could hardly put this book down. was a good romance and interesting story line. I was a teenager during this time and had a brother go in through this area so made it more interesting for me. If you like WWII stories you will like this one. Have read several of Sarah's books and liked them all. The characters are down to earth with feeling we all have at times I like Christian fiction and try always to check the books out. Got this one free and will probably buy the rest of the series.t.
This book takes place during WWII and gives some background of nurses during the war and those flying with the injured a first done during this war. It also tells of the spiritual growth of the nurse and airman. Like this author and like her storylines.
I really liked this book. The characters are believable in that they are afraid of being hurt again. Each has something they need to change in their lives and they look to God for strength. Highly recommended!
Frist time reading is aurthor ; she did a great job telling is story . Will read her again . Was going to get book two and three . Big surprise nook , you can not get them on a nook reader . Now what ....
I enjoyed the format of the story. It was a sweet love story told in a different way. I recommend this book for a good read!
Well written and a great story
What a wonderful book... Thank so much for share...Blessings.
Great story. You will find yourself emotionally invested in the lives of these characters.
Enjoyed the book but had a very strange ending!
Kept me going until the end. Will read all her books.
Unique story line, and I enjoyed learning about flight nurses on WWII.
Reality sets in on what is real in being you Friendship and perseverance Love and faith
“With Every Letter” by Sarah Sundin is the first book in her 'Wings of the Nightingale' series. This is a full length novel that is set during World War II. Now this is the first full length novel that I have read during that time period for I really wanted to see if I was going to enjoy an era that I have always avoided before. I have read only a few Heartsong Presents, and for those who don't read them they are books with only about 170 to 180 pages, that opened my eyes to the whole time period in the first place. This book really sealed the deal and I need to stop avoiding time periods for apparently I will enjoy the book. Honestly this book at first was hard to get into. Finally at around page 170 things turned around and it became a really good book that I just couldn't put down. I have to wonder if those first 170 or so pages where used to help set up the rest of the series. It was hard to get into because it was just slow and at times it seemed as if there was too many details that just bogged down the story. Actually the too many details was something I found throughout the whole book but once it picked up speed it didn't matter much any more. I try to describe the characters but honestly I can't do that with this book for both Tom and Mellie change so much through the story that if I was to describe them then I would be giving away so much. I just couldn't take away anything for really the changes that they go through really is what makes the store. The way they supported each other was beautiful and so tender. The way open up and help each other is also what helped make the whole story so wonderful. This is a book that is set basically in the middle of the war, and that is not glossed over by not talking about what is going on. I am a person who can't abide by gruesome details of death, shooting, and violence, so with that said, I would like to say that this is a book that shows war is going on around them. There are scenes of battle, scenes of death, scenes of injuries, but they are not so graphic that I couldn't read them. I would allow my friends tween daughter read this book because this doesn't glorify war, but it doesn't show the worse of it. So though I say I found at times the book had too many details, when it came to the worse part of war, there was this balance of just enough for the reader to understand what is happening without getting into the details that would be too graphic. I am looking forward to reading the rest of the series, and I hope all who pick up this book enjoys it at much as I did.