Chapter 1

August 1964

Coronado Cays, California

"Watch out for the nude bathers, Amelia," Aunt Bess yelled as Amelia struck out for the beach, standard paraphernalia in hand; a beach chair, umbrella, blanket, novel, towel and lots of suntan lotion.

"Hey, where are the binoculars?" Amelia asked, spinning around, pretending to reverse course.

Twenty-one year old Amelia had completed three years of college and planned to go back to the University of Colorado in the fall. Longing for solitude and a change of scenery, she had arranged a vacation with her aunt in California. Aunt Bess lived in Coronado Cays on the Silver Strand, a narrow stretch of land between San Diego Bay and the Pacific Ocean.

Midweek produced few beachcombers, and Amelia preferred sunbathing alone. She turned to the left out of the Cays toward Imperial Beach. Soon she was at her favorite hideaway among the sand dunes. Nestled comfortably in her beach chair, she scanned the panoramic scene, mesmerized by its beauty. Scattered, puffy cumulus clouds drifted across the pastel blue sky. The bluish-green water of the Pacific filled the horizon. Sighing, she pulled out a paperback novel. She read for a while, but then she had the feeling of something or someone nearby. Looking up, she saw a man standing motionless in the surf, smiling at her. Normally, an unexpected encounter of this sort would have provoked her, but his appearance was not threatening.

Actually, she liked what she saw. If a man can be called beautiful, let me be the first to say it. We have a winner! He was of above-average height, marvelously muscled and tanned. His crew cut complemented his sharp features and perfect teeth. Amelia had the same feeling she had once experienced as a small girl walking through a meadow. She had come upon a small deer; they had both frozen, avoiding any sound or movement that might attract attention. Then Amelia moved. The deer bolted, never to be seen again.

Whoa, girl. It could be a mirage. She dropped her sun glasses down on her nose to study him more closely. Apparently the stranger had been jogging along the beach. Amelia laughed as the water swirled about his ankles.

"Most joggers keep their shoes dry by running above the water's edge," she said with a grin.

"I'll be darned," he said. "I'd forgotten there was an ocean near here." He moved quickly toward her, away from the water. "I just bought these shoes at the Navy Exchange this morning. Had I known these magic shoes would lead me here, I would have bought them sooner." He studied the sandy hideaway. "Is this your Shangri-La between the sand dunes?"

"I picked it for privacy, but it isn't working," Amelia said, watching his eyes scan her body. She slowly raised her book to shield her breasts. It was her first bikini, and she wasn't used to such exposure. Why not? She casually lowered the book.

"I'm sorry for intruding." He stepped backward, extending his hands palms-up. "I'm not armed. I assure you, I'm harmless. If I startled you, I apologize."

"No apology necessary, but if you're looking for Imperial Beach, it's that way," she pointed to her left.

"It's just that I'm a little off-balance." He stuck his arms out as though walking a tight rope. "I never expected to see such a lovely vision. You stopped me in my tracks, that's for sure."

What corn. "I'm just a regular stop sign."

"I jog by here every day, generally outside the surf. Are you the surf marshal?"

"It's okay, no ticket this time."

"Are you a California native?"

"Tourist, from Iowa."

"Ah, the Midwest, home of our country's finest citizens."

"Thank you, kind sir. This is my first visit to the coast."

"Well, you've picked a great area to vacation."

Amelia nodded. "How far do you run?"

"I try to run at least ten miles a day." He looked out to sea and scanned the horizon.

Amelia waited, expecting him to continue, but he remained silent. There was something about him that reminded her of her father.

"All my life I've dreamed of experiencing a sunset over the ocean," she said.

He turned back to Amelia. "Well, you've come to the right place."

"My aunt couldn't believe I would be out here so early. Now I'm waiting for the sunset."

The jogger's eyes widened. "Hmmm, long day."

Facing the sun Ameliareadjusted her sun glasses. "They're like snowflakes, no two exactly alike."

He chuckled. "That's a great way of putting it. I've seen some spectacular sunsets at sea. Viewing one from forty thousand feet above all the weather is awesome."

"Oh, you're a Navy pilot?"

"Pilot, yes. Navy, no. I'm an Air Force captain assigned to the-"

"Oh, how wonderful!" Amelia said, her barriers tumbling down. "My dad's an Air Force pilot, too. Right now he's in Southeast Asia. Will you be going to Southeast Asia?"

"Funny that you should ask . . . but my mother told me that I should never talk to strangers."

Amelia laughed. "You obviously didn't listen. My father taught me the same."

"Touché." The pilot momentarily assumed the pose of a sword fighter. "I am Captain Zachary Anthony King, my lady. Most everyone calls me Zach."

"What's an Air Force pilot doing in Navy territory?"

"I'm temporarily assigned to the aircraft carrier Ranger as a liaison officer. It's docked at North Island Naval Air Station, about five miles north of here."

"How long will you be with the Navy?"

"Next Monday I'm returning to Eglin Air Force Base in Florida for training, Miss . . . Beach Lady. And please don't tell me it's Mrs."

"I'm just plain Amelia Savage, single college girl."

"Yes!" Zachary said, clenching his fists before his face and looking up to the sky.

"And?" said Amelia.

"Then I leave for Vietnam."

"I bet you're really excited about that."

"You better believe it, Charlie."

"Charlie?" Amelia stared at Zach. "Does that mean yes?"

"Oops-I'm sorry, Amelia. I've let the King's English slip. It's just a catchy expression, meaning 'definitely yes.'"

"Who's Charlie, an imaginary person?"

"I think he's from France, or maybe Vietnam."

"Maybe it was Charles DeGaulle?"

Zach nodded. "At first I thought it was DeGaulle. A buddy just returned from a remote tour in Vietnam, and he said they call the Viet Cong 'Charlie.' I don't really know. It just stuck with me."

Amelia closed her book, amused by their conversation. "I guess Charlie Chaplin or Ray Charles would be out of the question?"

"Let's go with the Viet Cong."

"That's acceptable." She placed her book in her shoulder bag, accepting the fact that reading had now become unimportant. "Shall we start over?"

"Okay, I'll try to give a more mature answer."

"Let's see, where were we?" Amelia placed her right hand on her forehead, feigning recall. "I bet you're really excited about that."

"Not as excited as I am right now."

Amelia stared at Zach. "Now you sound just like my dad."

"How so?"

"Your comment, plus all that stuff about a lovely vision and being excited. He talked that way to Mother all the time."

"It must have worked, if she married him."

"I think it was the poetry. He loved to recite amorous poems to her."

"Is that in the past tense?"

"We haven't seen my father for over two years." Amelia looked down and poked at the sand with her right foot. "It hurts to talk about it."

Zach took the cue and switched to a more humorous topic. "I know some nursery rhymes."

Amelia smiled and invited him to have a seat, suggesting he remove his new, wet shoes. Both laughed, recalling his awkward behavior. They talked about his home in San Francisco and his four years at the Air Force Academy, where he had graduated in the class of '59. He had excelled in track and was an All-American running back, sought after by several NFL teams. His long-range plan was to be a lawyer. He had an older brother, a fighter pilot, killed in the Korean War in 1953. No sisters, and his mother and father had died while he was a teenager.

"Enough about me," Zach said. "Savage is an intriguing name."

"I'm Mohawk from my mother's side and Polish from my dad's. His real name was Savagovich until his father was processed through Ellis Island."

Zach laughed. "Roger that."

Amelia's initial assessment of Zachary was positive. He was handsome, youthful, powerfully built, and confident, but not arrogant. She did speak briefly of her home in Iowa wondering if she had shared too much personal information.

"Enough talk," she said finally, surprising him. "May I join you for a run?"

"I have a full schedule," Zach said, looking at his watch, "but I think I can fit it in."

Standing up, she dropped her towel to the sand. A look of momentary surprise crossed his face. They stood eye to eye.

"Race you," she challenged, darting quickly toward the ocean. "After I beat you, we can cool off with a swim." She stopped at the water's edge, poised as though waiting for the starter's gun.

Zachary paused momentarily. "Beat me?" he muttered. Shaking his head, he yelled, "You're on!" and lunged forward.

Amelia sprinted up the beach, yards ahead of her surprised competitor. Looking back, she slowed and allowed Zach to pass. He went by, grinning, confident of winning the race. Then she passed him effortlessly, nodding. Zach tried to close the gap, but Amelia kept upping her pace until he appeared close to collapse and could no longer match her speed.

Minutes later, Zach comically fell flat on his face and rolled over, covered with sand, his chest heaving. Amelia circled back to make sure he was okay laughing as he feigned surrender, gasping for air.

"What is that red building?" Zach asked, regaining his composure. "And please don't say it's the Pearly Gates."

"That's the Hotel Del Coronado."

"That's what I thought. You've heard of the Four Minute Mile-that was the Four Mile Minute!"

"Not quite."

"'Not quite,' she says, barely out of breath." Zach rolled over onto his knees and bowed before her, his arms outstretched in the sand. "Who are you, oh mighty runner?"

Amelia batted her eyes. "Just a little ol' farm girl from Iowa."

"Well, this little farm girl just beat the United States Air Force Academy's fleet-footed track star."

"That's because she's the University of Colorado's fleet-footed track star."

"I bet you swim like a fish, too." Zach made a porpoise motion with both hands. "Let's doggy-paddle back to our gear and mosey back this way for lunch at the Del."

"Do you want to race for lunch?" Amelia asked.

Zach waved a finger at Amelia. "No, thanks."

Later, as Amelia dried herself, Zach reminded her of his lunch invitation at the Hotel Del Coronado. His gear waited in a locker at the Del, where he had planned to eat and play tennis with vacationing friends.

Why not?Aunt Bess isn't expecting me back until after sunset. She'll never know I'm out picking up handsome, defenseless Air Force beachcombers.

"Hello, Amelia, are you still here?" Zach pretended to be holding a microphone. "This is the control tower. Come in, Amelia."

"Yes, Zach. That sounds like fun." She gathered her belongings, and they walked north, enjoying the sight of a flock of seagulls hovering above their heads, dipping down and squawking for a free meal. The sandpipers played keep-away from the surf, their short legs a blur, flicking back and forth to avoid the persistent pursuit of the water. They seemed to possess a fanatical fear of getting their feet wet. A school of porpoises, feeding in the shallow blue waters, looked like surfers as they popped out of the waves in pursuit of their dinner. Some hung in flying arcs, bodies glistening like wet gray torpedoes. They all seemed to be smiling.

Amelia felt a serenity and contentment she had never experienced before. She had a powerful urge to reach out and hold Zach's hand but thought better of it, surprised that she would even consider such a bold move. She took a deep breath, embarrassed by her reaction to this stranger.

After lunch, Amelia sat alone on the patio of the hotel overlooking the tennis courts and the beach, watching Zach play tennis with his friends. He waved to Amelia and pointed toward the sky. She was surprised at how low a jet airplane flew above the beach. It was on final approach for landing at North Island Naval Air Station.

"Intruder!" yelled Zachary. "Isn't it beautiful? That's my bird!"

Later, Amelia walked down to the court to say good-bye. Zach insisted on walking her home, but Amelia declined, confused by her sudden attraction to this man she had known for only a few hours. "I'll be fine," she explained. "I'll take the shuttle bus to the Cays."

"Will you be at Shangri-La tomorrow?" Zach asked.

"I will. Same time, same place."

As she settled into her seat on the bus, she looked back at the Hotel Del and muttered, "Only an earthquake would keep me away." Realizing she was very close to the San Andreas Fault, she quickly muttered, "Lord, what did I just say?"

Chapter 2

Days passed like nanoseconds. They went sailing on a thirty-foot Catalina from the Navy's recreational marina located on the Silver Strand, just south of the Navy's amphibious base. Amelia attempted to hide her anxiety. She had never been on a sailboat and was surprised at the numerous tasks to be performed before getting underway. She followed Zach's instructions cautiously, wondering when the preparation to sail would end.

"Good job, Amelia." Zach patted the seat next to him. "Sit here."

Amelia breathed a sign of relief. "Now I know why it takes so many crew members to operate a sailboat."

"Relax, Amelia," Zach said, as they departed the dock. "You're not in a dentist's chair. Hand me that sheet." He pointed to the rope curled at her feet. "On a sailboat, this rope is called a sheet, and it controls the set of a sail." Zach pulled the sheet taut, and the boat picked up speed as the sail filled with air.

Amelia snuggled back against Zach. "How fast are we going?"

"About eight knots. The winds are out of the northwest at about twenty knots, which is great for this heading. We should be at Anthony's restaurant in about thirty minutes. We can dock and have lunch."

Amelia was deep in thought, transfixed by the view in front of her. She felt so secure with Zach. He seemed to know everything. Worldly and mature-the words seemed to fit him well.

"Amelia, what are you thinking?" Zach asked.

"Oh, sorry, I left you for a minute. I feel like Dorothy in the Land of Oz. I was thinking that I've seen so little." She didn't mention the other small doubt that had entered her mind. She was feeling overwhelmed.

"What a view," she yelled. "And look at that incredible bridge. It's huge!"

"That's the Coronado Bridge. The reason it's so high is to allow large Navy ships into the repair facility. Look to your right. There must be at least twenty ships docked."

Amelia loved to hear him explain things. His calm, quiet voice was just another perfect part to the whole of Zach. His explanations were as natural to him as running was to Amelia. She snuggled closer to him.

Two huge moored aircraft carriers loomed into view as they passed under the bridge. Zachary changed direction toward the closest carrier. As they neared it, Amelia gasped, "Good gosh, they're gigantic!"

Zach nodded. "That first one was my home for six months. It's the Ranger, number Sixty-One. All the carriers have huge white numbers painted on their sides. It helps the Marine pilots find the right carrier."

Amelia laughed. "I take it Marine pilots aren't very smart?"

Zach shook his head. "No, that's just what the Navy pilots would like everyone to think. It's a joke."

Amelia nodded.

Looking straight up, they watched a sailor motion for them to move away. Minutes later, an angry voice from a loudspeaker ordered them to change course away from the carrier.

"Oops," said Zachary. "We pressed them a bit. They get nervous when strangers come too close. We'd better sail for Anthony's."

"Aye, aye, sir," Amelia said with a salute.

After docking at the seafood restaurant for lunch, they toured the Star of India, an old British sailboat, moored nearby. Zachary offered his camera to a tourist, who snapped a picture of them posed in front of the Star.

They held hands as though handcuffed. Little light passed between them.

~~~

That evening, back at Shangri-La, Zach furnished the blankets, white wine and music. He watched Amelia with affection as she opened the bag of marshmallows and sliced the cheese.

The low tide, almost calm, lulled him into a feeling of unhurriedness. His heart warmed in the presence of this beautiful woman; he could hardly believe that she was here with him. The full moon lit a cloudless sky, its reflection glimmering off the placid water like a jagged arrow. Far from the water's edge, deep among the dunes, Zach enjoyed his privacy with Amelia.

It was so quiet Zach could almost hear the green flash of sunset, were it not for the clink of their wine glasses echoing over the beach. "Let's stargaze," he suggested, spreading a blanket over the sand. They lay side by side, their arms behind their heads, discussing the constellations and shooting stars.

"Our fire is going out," cautioned Amelia.

"Not mine," Zach said.

Amelia waved a finger. "Too much wine for you. Here, work on these cute little snowballs."

"So much for the celestial sphere," Zach said. "It's marshmallow time." After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he asked, "Have you seen the green flash?"

"What do you mean?" Amelia asked.

"I spent a month vacationing on the Kona Coast in Hawaii with a great group of heavy-drinking, fun-loving sun worshipers. Every evening we would bring our drinks down to the black, lava-covered beach and sit on a retaining wall."

"Oh, what fun!"

"The most adventurous sat on the lava, close to the ocean, where the breaking waves would spray. We called ourselves the Sunset Club. At the precise moment the top of the sun disappeared below the horizon, the green flash occurred."

"Well, darn," said Amelia, not sure if he was pulling her leg. "I didn't see it."

"That makes two of us. Maybe it's only in Hawaii-that's what we tourists pay the big bucks for."

"Maybe the green flash is your money streaking out of your wallet."

"You don't think the alcohol has anything to do with it, do you?"

"Naw, no way."

They laughed and then fell quiet, lost in thought.

Zach finally broke the silence. "How did you make your way to the university of American bisons?"

"I made it in high school, after accumulating athletic and academic scholarship offers from around the country."

"So you chose Colorado University?"

"Sorta, kinda'. My best friend, Rachel Van Doren, wanted to go to Colorado for pre-med and track. We made a visit together and were sold." Amelia rolled over on her side, up on one elbow, moving closer to Zach. "Actually, Rachel is like a sister and a mother. We grew up together in the small farming community of Bancroft, Iowa."

"What's your major?"

"Journalism, with a minor in physical education."

"Of course."

Zachary ate the last marshmallow and turned on his side, moving closer to Amelia. Amelia responded by snuggling closer, face-to-face with him. He placed a finger on her chin, turning her head so he could study her profile. "How does a Mohawk girl get a name like Amelia?"

She laughed, flicking Zach's hand away. "You do ask a lot of personal questions . . . but this is an easy one. My father . . . Did I tell you he was a colonel? He wanted me to be a pilot from day one."

"I know that one. When I was around nine years old, I remember my mother asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I told her a pilot. She laughed and said I couldn't be both."

Amelia had a puzzled look. "I don't get it."

"All pilots have little-boy mentalities. We never grow up."

Amelia nodded. "From what I've experienced in college, I can believe that."

"Now wait a minute!" Zach pretended to be hurt. "That was supposed to be funny."

"You said it, not me! If I had been a boy, my name would probably be Lindbergh. My father named me after Amelia Earhart. Dad said I was conceived in Atchison, Kansas, Amelia Earhart's birthplace. Did you know she would be sixty-seven years old this year?"

"No, I never thought about it."

"I'm glad he didn't name me Atchison." They both laughed. "One night, as we sat on the front porch, he spontaneously composed a humorous poem about Amelia Earhart. We laughed loud and long."

"Do you remember it?"

"No, except that it was real corny. He never wrote it down, thank God."

"Were you close to your dad?"

"In my heart. He was seldom home. I'm embarrassed to say it, but there were many times I questioned his love for me or the family. We felt abandoned."

"Was he a disciplinarian?"

"Yes, but not unreasonable. He's a quiet, patient man, slow to anger. When we were naughty, he always gave us the opportunity to make a defense before tanning our hides."

"What was your first hint you were going to get whacked?"

"When he said, 'Your actions speak so loud, I can't hear a word you're saying!'"

"Sounds logical and intelligent."

"He lived the Boy Scout motto."

"I bet he was an Eagle Scout."

"You got that right."

"Sounds adventurous."

"Yes, and he gave me a motto to live by."

"What was his guiding advice?"

"It was a one-liner that I didn't understand at first. I wrote it down and put it over my bed, where I read it every night before my prayers."

"Let's hear it."

Amelia stared into space, transfixed. Zach could hear her inhale, preparing.

"Do not succumb to omission of adventures through fear of intimidation or, worse yet, through arrogant ignorance of your peers."

"Whoa! I can see now where you're coming from, your adventurous competitive drive."

Amelia placed a finger on Zach's nose. "You noticed that?"

Zach laughed, gently removing her hand. "I have one more question, and then you can cross-examine me if you like."

"Shoot."

"You're the most beautiful, attractive, and desirable woman I've ever met. How have you managed to stay single?"

Amelia drew back, eyes widening. "Well, thank you. My studies and athletic life take preference over romance, and I'm very particular about who I date. The college boys are so much into themselves that I'm just not interested. My mother played her part, too. She told me the two most important things in my life would be the friends I make and the books I read."

"Please tell me I'm your friend," Zach said, folding his hands.

"You're certainly not like those college boys. I'm hoping you'll be more than just a friend." She stared into Zachary's eyes, cocking her head, lips parted.

The remark startled Zachary. That was the first flirtatious comment or move that Amelia had made. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until the stars supernovaed, but he suppressed his passion, fearful of suggesting that he was nothing but a sex maniac. Damn!Men move like lightning in the company of loose women, but when we find someone we truly respect and admire, we turn into jelly and move like snails.

He let the golden opportunity pass by, performing a great tactical maneuver. "Southeast Asia is a big place, but if I cross paths with your father, is there a message I could pass on?"

Amelia paused and turned away from him. "Just that we were wrong; I love him, the entire family loves him. We miss him lots, and please come home."

"Do you have a photograph?"

"Unfortunately, no. He avoids having his picture taken."

"I bet you have one of him in a group photo."

"One of his friends sent me a snapshot from Hawaii about three years ago. They were at a Hawaiian luau wearing brightly flowered aloha shirts."

"That would work."

Amelia sat up, hugging her knees. "Dad loves aloha shirts and wore them around the farm. He was quite a sight on his tractor, planting corn in those flashy shirts."

"So you never pursued a flying career?"
"Motion sickness. I couldn't overcome it."

Zach hesitated, then said, "The first day I met you, you said you hadn't seen or heard from your father in two years and refused to discuss it. I'm not prying and don't want to upset you, but sometimes talking to someone about a traumatic experience is therapeutic." He paused, checking her vulnerability gauge. She seemed okay. "Did you two have a falling out?"

"Oh no, it wasn't me. It was my mother and my brother." Amelia clenched her fists and rested her head on them, eyes closed. "That's not true. It was all three of us. It's a horrible story."

"Would you rather not discuss it?"
"No, I want you to know." She paused, inhaling deeply. "Mom's a homebody, Dad's an adventurer. At first, we traveled the world together with all the normal military transfers. Mom finally laid down the law. She was going home to Iowa, and Dad could make a choice, the family or the military. Dad said he'd finish his commitment, do one more tour and retire.

"In 1961, he left on an unaccompanied tour for Southeast Asia. In 1962, he came home on vacation. It was one of our happiest times. Mother was radiant. My older brother, Bob, was working as an automobile mechanic. I was a freshman in college, and Joe Junior, my little brother, was six years old. Dad was going into town for a haircut and asked Mom if he could take Little Joe along. Mom said no. She knew Dad liked to have a few drinks at The Watering Hole and didn't want Joe Junior hearing all the swearing while breathing all that smoke.

"Dad said he would pass up the bar and just get a haircut. Mom gave in and warned Dad to be sure to hold Joe's hand tight, because Joe liked to pull away and run wild. Dad promised he would. They were standing on the sidewalk in the middle of downtown on a Tuesday morning. Dad was talking to an old friend when Joe Junior pulled away and ran into the street. He was struck by a pick-up truck and killed instantly. Witnesses said the truck was only traveling about fifteen miles an hour, but it never stopped."

"Who was driving the truck?"

"Why do you ask?"

"It could have been a young kid driving without a license. Farm kids do that."

Amelia scratched her head. "Don't I know it. I see where you're going, but I think it was an elderly farmer."

Zach shrugged. "If it was a young, reckless driver, it would take some of the guilt away from your father."

Amelia shook her head. "Anyway, Mom went to pieces. We all did, but Mom told Dad it was his fault and she never wanted to see him again. My brother Bob just took off. Dad was devastated. Even after the funeral, Mom continued to avoid Dad, wanting nothing to do with him, so Dad left and never came back. We later learned that Bob had joined the Army and was stationed in Germany. Our only connection with Dad was a check mailed from Udorn, Thailand, every month to the Bancroft First National Bank in my mother's name."

Amelia paused, as if struggling to hold back tears. Zach was about to speak when she continued. "It wasn't anybody's fault, not Dad's, not the driver's. It was a freak accident. I could have been there holding Joe's hand when he bolted. It could have been Bob. It could have been Mom. But it was Dad. I wish it had been me." Amelia began to cry. Zach put his arms around her, pulling her close. "My dad seems to have disappeared from the face of the earth. I wonder what it will take to reunite him with my mother. She misses him terribly, but she's so stubborn. Are all Indian women like that?"

"What I know about Indians you could put on the head of a pin. I'm sure he'll come home," Zach consoled, uncomfortable with her grief. "Something will happen to reunite your mom and dad."

"I would give anything to make that happen," Amelia said sadly. "It'll take something really traumatic to bring them together again. My mother made a big mistake in looking to her children for happiness rather than to her husband. The best gift that parents can give their children is to love one another."

They sat snuggled together, wrapped in a single blanket, with Zach's left arm around Amelia's waist. The flickering light of the fire cast shadows on the sand as they enjoyed the solitude and peace of a quiet summer night. The gentle surf whispered a soothing message: Relax, forgo, relinquish. Occasionally, the snap and crackle of the fire disturbed the night, but it diminished in intensity and finally fell silent. The blackness of the beach now revealed the millions of stars that had been hiding in the firelight.

Finally, Zach turned to look at Amelia. "You are so beautiful," he said softly. "When I first saw you that glorious day, you overpowered me. It was a tremendous physical attraction, without a doubt, but it's so much more than that. Your inner beauty has captivated my soul."

"I did all of that?" Amelia joked, looking surprised.

"I meant every word."

"It seems you are romancing me; no one has ever spoken to me in such a courtly manner."

"I'm very pleased to hear that."

"Our relationship is moving too fast." Amelia placed her hand on Zach's face. "I'm afraid to tell you the way I feel because I'm attracted to you."

Zach kissed the back of her hand. "And I am to you."

"I'm embarrassed at myself for yearning for you. I can't think about anything else." Zach reached around Amelia with his right arm, taking her into his arms, holding her tight. "I'm frightened. I'm afraid."

"Don't be." He kissed her on the cheek. "What's happened is a wonderful thing."

"Yes, it's a wonderful feeling. Yet I fear we're about to make a serious mistake. I don't want to lose control."

"Amelia, I'm twenty-six years old, not some lusting, over-sexed beach bum looking for instant gratification. I love you; I want to be with you."

Barely perceptible in the background, the portable radio played "For All We Know" by June Christy:

For all we know

We may never meet again

Before you go

Make this moment sweet again

We won't say goodnight

Until the last minute.

I'll hold out my hand

And my heart will be in it.

For all we know

This may only be a dream

We come and go

Like a ripple on a stream

So love me tonight

Tomorrow was made for some

Tomorrow may never come

For all we know

So love me tonight

I may never see you again

So love me tonight.

"I love you," Amelia whispered.

As their heads turned in unison, their lips met. They kissed gently at first, but each succeeding kiss increased in ardor and duration. Time stood still as their intense passion consumed them with an uncontrollable desire to merge as one. It seemed natural and as necessary as breathing.

Chapter 3

September 1964

University of Colorado, Boulder

In the Johnson dormitory on the University of Colorado campus, Amelia had finished unpacking and was changing into her pajamas when Rachel walked into the room and picked up a San Diego T-shirt. "How thoughtful," she said, "a present for me." She checked it front and back. "I hope it's the right size."

"I told the sales lady that you were six-foot-eight, a one-hundred-sixty-pound featherweight, and wore a size thirty-eight F bra," Amelia replied, chuckling, knowing that Rachel had a great sense of humor and enjoyed friendly bantering. "I may have had the bra size wrong."

"One-hundred-thirty-nine, smarty." Rachel fluttered her eyelashes and tossed her auburn hair. "Did you tell her about my captivating reddish-brown freckles and indigo bedroom eyes?"

Amelia took the T-shirt from Rachel and held it against Rachel's chest. "Sure, that's why I bought you a brown and blue one. This one was made especially for a future cardiologist." She winked at Rachel.

Rachel, a deeply religious woman and soon to be fourth-generation doctor, longed to heal the world. A fair-skinned, buxom, big-boned woman, she possessed exceptional strength. Lifting heavy patients from bed to bed was a simple task. She sported a pageboy hairstyle, dimples and a quick smile.

Rachel hugged the T-shirt against her body. "I love it."

"So Rachel, what have you been doing while I was away, besides frequenting libraries, wineries and art museums?"

"You missed a few," Rachel replied. "There's reading, watercolor painting, horseback riding, hiking, and drinking fine wines. But enough about me . . . How was your stay in sunny California?"

"Fabulous! I've never experienced such . . ." Amelia paused to search for the right words.

"What's his name?" interrupted Rachel.

Amelia grinned. "Zachary King, an Air Force pilot from San Francisco."

Rachel tossed the shirt onto her bed. "Do we have an Air Force base in San Francisco?"

"No, silly. He was born and raised in San Francisco. Zach was assigned to the U.S. Navy at North Island on the aircraft carrier Ranger when I met him, but now he's in Florida on some kind of special training for Vietnam." Amelia raised her right hand, displaying a diamond ring.

"Oh, my gosh! You're a war bride."

"It was torrid, that's for sure."

"'Diamond ring' and 'torrid' spell 'marriage.'"

"Eventually." Amelia continued to admire her ring. "He'll be in Vietnam for at least a year, and I have to get my degree."

"Oh, Amelia! You dropped your slipper at the ball." Taking Amelia's hand, Rachel admired the ring. "Tell me what your Prince Charming looks like. I bet he's handsome."

"He's marvelous, simply marvelous."

Rachel pulled a chair from beneath the desk and sat down, eager to hear more. "So that's why I didn't get one card from you."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't think of anything else after meeting him. I was a real vegetable. A fried green tomato, if you know what I mean."

"Sounds like a real hunk."

"Oh, he is. It seems so unreal. Romance was the last thing on my mind, and wham-o, the arrow stopped here." She pointed at her heart.

"Sounds interesting." Rachel stood up. "Let me put on my sandman suit, and you can share the intimate details."

"I'll tell you everything . . . except the good parts," teased Amelia.

"You're no fun. I share with you. Didn't I explain in intimate detail my first kiss by a non-family member of the opposite sex?"

"Big whoopee. Kid stuff doesn't count." Amelia removed her bedspread, folded it, and placed it at the foot of her bed. "How do you like the new quilted bedspread that my mother sent me?"

"Did she make it?" Rachel asked.

Amelia smoothed it over gently with her hand. "Actually, her quilting circle of friends made it for her after she complained of being cold all the time since my dad left her."

"That was nice." Rachel frowned. "Why did she give it to you?"

"She said it had become a constant reminder that she had inherited a blanket in place of a wonderful, warm, passionate, loving husband." Amelia turned down the blankets on her bed. "I'm too tired to talk. I got up at four a.m. to travel home, and look at the clock-it's almost midnight." She turned off her small table lamp as she slipped between the sheets and exhaled a sigh of relief in anticipation of dreamland.

"Time out!" Rachel exclaimed. "First you change the subject, and now you're going to leave me hanging like that? I'll be up all night. While I'm undressing, you can tell me what makes him so different from all the others."

Amelia sighed, sat up, and wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. "Okay, Mother Van Doren. Zachary is twenty-seven years old, very mature, and so affectionate. He was born in San Francisco and graduated from the Blue Zoo, right here in Colorado."

"Hold on," Rachel said. "What's the Blue Zoo?"

"The Falcon Coop, you know, in Colorado Springs."

"The Air Force Academy?"

"You got it. Wild Blue University!"

"Boy, has he got you brainwashed. You're already talking like an Air Force wife."

"Roger, dodger."

"Okay, I've got that part. Tell me the mushy stuff." She sat down close to Amelia on the bed to encourage her to share more.

"He can say the most loving things." Amelia looked at the ceiling and recited fondly, 'you are precious in my eyes, and I love you.' I took him in my arms and showered him with kisses." Amelia jumped up and hugged herself as though she were holding Zach and dancing around the room with him.

"Don't they all say 'I love you'?"

"He doesn't just say 'I love you.' He embellishes it with poetic words of endearment."

"How did you meet him? Will he be coming to visit you? What does he look like?"

Wearily, Amelia dropped her arms at her side. "Okay, I'll answer those three questions, but the rest will have to wait." She plopped down on the bed.

At two o'clock, Amelia curled up on the bed while Rachel continued prodding her with questions. Unable to keep her eyes open, she fell asleep.