we met, and the sparks flew instantly
Winnifred Margaret Clark was born in a two-bedroom house in Shelbyville, Indiana, on the hottest day of June of 1900. Her mother told her that she came out perspiring; her skin hot to the touch. She didn’t hold her until the sun had gone down hours later, when it was finally cool enough to cradle the small body to her.
She was the youngest of 6, which meant she was endlessly picked on by her brothers and sisters, and her parents never did a damn thing about it. They taught her to suck it up and not let it bother her. Fat load of good that did, since it didn’t make the teasing stop. But she did learn to ignore it. By the time she was 10, Winnifred had mastered being able to work in chaos.
She was the smartest girl in her class, and she was damn proud of it. She was a natural excler at her studies, and so her father had no choice but to enroll her in the public school in town. It was a small school, 20 kids crammed in a one room schoolhouse, with only one teacher for all of them. Winnie, at the age of 5, was the youngest child to enroll in the school, so, naturally, the teasing she experienced at home followed her to her classroom.
The other kids liked to pick on her because she was young, they called her a baby, and would often ask her to recite the alphabet, just to see if she could. Winnie, of course, had had the alphabet memorized since she was 3, and she was very proud of that. She was miles ahead of her classmates, which her teacher hated, because, as Mrs. Price liked to say, “You’re too smart for your own good, little lady.” She just hated the extra work Winnie made her put in; always asking questions which meant her teacher had to stop class to answer, because Winnie would not accept a half-assed explanation for anything, including the time she asked if there were numbers that were below zero. Truthfully, Mrs. Price didn’t know the answer to that one, and she just said they didn’t exist. It satisfied Winnie enough to keep quiet, but she spoke up again after ten minutes, demanding to know why they didn’t. She had earned three slaps on each hand with a ruler for disrupting class, and was warned of three more if she interrupted again.
But, of course, Winnifred Clark never took no for an answer.
That was the thing that George Barnes loved about her. She was resilient, when she wanted something, she stopped at nothing to get it. She was determined, and detailed. She never left any variable out of the equation, and was a quick problem-solver.
She was a fighter.
She had to be growing up in her house. Her older siblings didn’t have much of a life that Winnie wanted. None of them finished school, apparently adamant to spend the rest of their days working on their parents farm. She wanted none of that; she wanted to explore the world, she wanted to go to college, she wanted to experience love and heartbreak and maybe have a family of her own one day, with a man that loved her and wouldn’t call her names or pull on her pigtails in class.
It should have been no surprise to George when she became the one to pursue him.
Winnifred Clark met George Barnes when she was 15 years old, and he was 17. George was entranced with her the first time he laid eyes on her.
The year was 1915. George had been deployed to Camp Atterbury in Edinburgh in August of that year. The ongoing war in Europe meant tensions were high on President Wilson. After the sinking of the Lusitania and the death of over 100 Americans, Congress and the President agreed to silently draft civilians into service. Many of the men chosen had no idea what they were being chosen for, not until they got there. Lots of people would rather die than be forced to fight, George learned the hard way.
To boost the camp's morale, it was decided all the soldiers would go to Sunday service for Christmas, which turned out to be the day after. That was where he saw her.
She walked inside the small church, which was packed to the brim with soldiers from bootcamp, and sat down in a pew near the front. As she made her way to her seat, she walked by George, who was sitting at the edge of the aisle, and he would’ve sworn to the Lord above that he fell in love with her right then and there.
She wore a gorgeous red dress, which contrasted her cool skin, and brought George’s attention to her eyes. They were the most bright shade of blue he’d ever seen, deeper and more icy than the Atlantic Ocean in winter. He felt himself captivated by her as she walked away, unable to look away. Her hair was a deep brunette that was pinned up under her hat, but George could see a few loose strands in the back. They swept over her shoulders as she walked. He followed it as it did, pulled into a trance, wanting nothing more than to run his fingers through the ringlets. He imagined it would be soft, she looked like a gal that took pride in taking care of herself. Unlike himself, who had shown up to church with mud caked in his hair, unable to shower this morning because John Guire wanted to hog up the soap today.
As she sat down, she looked back over her shoulder, her lips slightly open, and her eyes peering directly at him. George was glad the congregation was allowed to sit now, because his knees had melted into clay, and he was sure he would collapse on the floor of the church.
It was another one of Jesus’ miracles that he was able to make it through the service, not with his admirer sneaking glances at him every now and then.
After the service, George and the other soldiers were ordered to leave last. It would be disrespectful to the others, to the town that had so kindly allowed them to attend today. As everybody else filed out, they made their way through the aisles, shaking hands with the soldiers. It only delayed their departure, but George was secretly hoping he would get to shake hands with the beautiful brunette who had captivated him so.
“Hello, soldier.”
Her voice was every bit as sweet as he had imagined.
She stood in front of him, her hand extended, a small smile on her face. George reached out, hoping she wouldn’t notice the way his hand shook, and fitted his palm in hers. Her hand felt impossibly small, George thought any kind of grip would sure to break the bones in her fingers, but she was strong. She squeezed his palm with her fingers, earning a small gasp of surprise from him.
He looked down at their hands, and then up at her eyes. There was that ice again, but George wanted nothing more than to drown in it.
“Soldier?”
Her voice broke him from his trance, reminded him that he needed to speak, and he couldn’t just stand here holding her hand forever.
He cleared his throat and spoke, “Um...C-Call me George.”
His mouth felt as dry as a field in August, and so he swallowed as best as he could, wetting his throat. She spoke before he could.
“Just George?”
He smiled. “George Barnes, miss…” he trailed off.
“Winnifred.”
“Just Winnifred?”
“Winnifred Clark, sir.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Clark.” He smiled at her.
“You as well, Mister Barnes,” she said with a returning grin.
The way she spoke his name, like it was a song, George wanted to hear her voice every second of every day. Standing in front of her, up close like this, George noticed all the things about her he hadn’t before; like the way the tip of her nose moved when she spoke. When she smiled, that beautiful and radiant smile, her entire face brightened up. Her skin shone with a gorgeous glow that sparkled in George’s eyes, blinding him to everything but her; Winnifred.
“Are we going to stand here all day, Mister Barnes?”
Her honey-sweet voice broke him out of his daze.
He looked down at their hands, which were still clasped together. Looking back up at her, he gasped.
“Oh, I’m so sorry Miss.” He moved to retract his hand, but couldn’t; her hold on him was strong, keeping him in place, interlocked with her.
He stammered over his words as he spoke, “Uh-um miss,” he said in a hushed tone, “You’ve got a m-mighty strong grip, for a girl”
Her mouth opened in a gasp, and her eyebrows shot up her forehead.
“Well,” she uttered, opening her hand and retracting it. “You’ve got quite soft hands, for a boy.”
And with that, she winked, turned, and walked away, leaving George to stand there, stunned, and officially in love with her.