Christmastime 1945 Read online

  Lillian was about to lose her temper when Tommy walked in, his eyes red.

  “Tommy! What is it?”

  He dropped onto the couch and held a pillow on his lap.

  “Tommy? What’s wrong?” Lillian sat next to him and cupped her hand around his cheek. “What is it, Tommy?”

  His mouth quivered, and his words came out all crumbled. “Amy. She’s moving back to Ohio!”

  “Oh, Tommy.” Lillian embraced him. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  Tommy tried to be strong, but his face grew more strained until he couldn’t keep back the tears. “Nothing will ever be the same!” He buried his face in the pillow.

  Lillian put her arms around him, wondering what to say. She looked over at Gabriel who was staring down at the floor. They had all grown to love Amy over the years.

  “Tell me what you know,” said Lillian. “What exactly did Amy say?”

  Tommy kept the pillow on his lap and fumbled with the corners, trying to begin. “She just found out. This morning. Her dad got his old job back. They still have their house back there. So…” His shoulders dropped as if a sudden weight had been placed on them. “Her mom wants Amy to finish the school year here, but her dad says she might as well start in the new year.”

  Gabriel had gone to the bookshelf and now moved to the other side of the couch with the atlas opened to the United States. “Look, Tommy. Ohio isn’t very far away. It’s kind of close.” He passed the book to Tommy.

  Tommy stared at the page. “It looks far.”

  “Not by train,” Gabriel said brightly. “We could jump a train and be there in no time. Like hobos! It’ll be an adventure! Pack some food, a couple of blankets – ”

  “There will be no jumping trains!” Lillian looked sternly at Gabriel, knowing that he was perfectly capable of such an – adventure.

  Gabriel twisted his mouth in disappointment and leaned back into the couch. After a brief silence, he nodded slowly, as if weighing different options.

  “Mom’s right. Why travel in a dusty old boxcar when we could be comfortable inside the train? We’re working men now. We can save our money and go visit her. Any time we want.”

  Lillian was about to stop Gabriel’s wild imaginings, but she held her tongue. Tommy had turned to Gabriel, as if considering the possibility.

  “Have our meals in the dining car and watch the world pass by.” Gabriel linked his arms behind his head. “And at night, from a comfortable berth, we could open the curtains and look up at the stars. Be in Ohio by morning.”

  Tommy sat up, envisioning such a trip. “A day? That’s not long.”

  Gabriel nodded. “A quick overnight journey.”

  Lillian wondered if Gabriel was serious in his suggestions, or if he was simply trying to make Tommy feel better. She observed him closely, surprised that he had been able to lessen Tommy’s despair.

  “Or,” said Gabriel, opening his right palm as if presenting yet another offer, “we could work as porters on the train. It might be cheaper that way.”

  Lillian stood. “Come. We’ll discuss it over dinner. You two must be hungry.”

  “We got a lot of options, Tommy. Mr. G says when life presents you with a difficult situation, you have two choices. Accept it or do something about it.”

  Tommy scooted in his chair and dished out a piece of chicken cacciatore. “Well, I’m not accepting it.”

  The conversation branched off into several directions the future might take: wait and see what happens – maybe Amy’s father would change his mind. Perhaps stopping by Ohio on their way to Kate’s farm in the summer. “Maybe Amy could come with us. She would love the farm,” Tommy said with a hint of hope coming back into his voice.

  Just as they were finishing dinner, Charlotte’s cries from the bedroom shifted their attention once more.

  “Tommy,” said Lillian, “can you get Charlotte?”

  “Sure.” He jumped up and was soon amusing his baby sister in the living room.

  Gabriel raised his face to Lillian. For a brief moment, she caught a new expression in his eyes. Older, wiser, and – reassuring. As if he had been in control in shifting Tommy’s mood and was checking to see if he had gotten away with it, or if she would be angry.

  Lillian smiled at him, strangely comforted. She gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Go and sit with Tommy. I’ll clean up here.”

  While she washed the dishes, she heard enough laughter coming from the living room to ease her mind about Tommy.

  Gabriel plugged in the Christmas tree lights, and they took turns holding Charlotte and showing her different ornaments.

  “Here’s a shiny brass trumpet,” said Gabriel. “And up there is a soldier. And over here,” he lifted an ornament with his free hand, “is my old Santa ornament.” He handed her to Tommy. “Look at her eyes, Tommy. She has Christmas tree lights in them.”

  Tommy lifted her and smiled. “She loves the tree. Wait until Dad sees her.” He called over his shoulder. “Mom, can we leave the tree up until Dad gets home?”

  Lillian came into the living room and smiled in agreement. Tonight, she would agree to anything.

  *

  Later that night, after she had bathed and fed Charlotte and after the boys were asleep, Lillian sat in front of the Christmas tree. She rocked Charlotte in her arms and thought about Tommy and Gabriel.

  They were so close, similar in so many ways, best friends – and yet so different. Tommy had always been popular, smart in school and good in sports, an achiever, protective of others, shy with the girls. Gabriel was more comfortable in his skin, cared less about what others thought of him, and was often driven by his curiosity. He tended to befriend unusual people and was at ease with everyone, even girls.

  Tommy had an underlying tension about him, the weight of the world on his shoulders. Was it because he was the elder and had to step up at an earlier age? He was older when Tom died – perhaps he had felt the loss more. Had she unwittingly put too much pressure on him? And yet he was rock solid, dependable. She never had to worry about him.

  All these years, it had been Gabriel who most concerned her. She had worried that he was too much like her – too dreamy, too much in his own world, and would always be at odds with school and routines and things he was supposed to do. Now she realized that he was full of his own kind of confidence and joy.

  She realized that Tommy was the more vulnerable one. He was more unsure of himself, and worried about what others thought of him, worried if he was doing the right thing, and was caught off balance when the world threw him a curve.

  Gabriel – Gabriel, she thought with a shake of her head, was the more resilient of the two. They were both smart and determined. They would both succeed in life, she was sure of that. But Gabriel might have more fun doing so.

  She shook away her fruitless worrying. Perhaps it was simply the differences in personalities, differences that made them so delightfully their own. And so compatible as brothers. She knew they would always look out for each other.

  She lifted Charlotte and held her close, cradling her head against her shoulder. “And now they have you.” She kissed her cheek and carried her to her crib. She looked down at the sleeping face and imagined that Charles was there with her, his arm around her shoulder. How happy he would be.

  Before going to bed, she went into the boys’ room and gazed down at them. She remembered how she used to tuck them in and read stories to them. They seemed so old now – fourteen and eleven. How quickly the years flew by. She leaned over them and kissed their foreheads and smoothed their hair, her heart bursting with love. Soon, soon – their happiness would be complete. The years of longing, the years of waiting, would be behind them.

  *

  After his rounds, Red stopped off at a small pub for dinner, a rather quiet one where he could usually find a table away from the crowds. He shook the rain from his jacket, hung it up, and rubbed his hands together. Snow was in the forecast, the temperature was dropping. He had re
ad that in the States, as in Europe, the winter was a cold one, unusually so. He placed his order, along with a cup of tea to warm up.

  All day he had been tempted to place a call to Charles to let him know there was a flight for him – but three days ago, a similar arrangement had fallen through. He would hate to disappoint him.

  And yet, he had a good feeling about this flight. Nova Scotia, then on to Toronto – Charles could take a bus or train from there. Maybe even a flight. He had read about the long delays at all the U.S. train and bus stations, as well as airports. The highways were clogged with returning servicemen – it was one enormous, country-wide traffic jam, with no end in sight.

  Red counted the days until Christmas. If Charles didn’t catch this flight, he’d be lucky to get home in January. If it didn’t work out, they could spend the holiday together, if either of them felt up to it. Several families had already invited Red to Christmas dinner. They all had children. Maybe Charles would enjoy that. Or maybe it would be too painful.

  He glanced out the window as he finished his meal – a simple stew and a heel of bread. Through the rain-drizzled windowpanes, he watched the people pass by, probably hurrying home to a loved one. Suddenly, his heart lurched as a woman with auburn hair passed by. He sat up and looked closer. No. This woman pushed a pram and a small child held her hand. And the walk was all wrong. He rubbed his eyes.

  It must be all Charles’s talk of going home. Red realized that he had been “seeing” Izzy again, as he used to. Mirages. Visions. Dreams. He could be staring out at traffic – and catch a glimpse of her in the way a woman wore her hat. Or at a restaurant, dining, and suddenly catch from afar, the way a woman threw her head back to laugh. Or he could be talking with a patient outside the hospital and he would see her – stopping to look in a window, walking with her hands in her coat pockets. Or, with an ache – always with a gripping heartache – her arm linked with a man’s. Izzy. She had become a part of him. And there was no undoing it. Three thousand miles hadn’t changed a thing. A sham marriage hadn’t changed a thing. A war had come between them, but always she was there – tucked away inside his heart. He would die with her locked safely there.

  She had moved on, as she should have. But he could never let her go. Would he ever be brave enough to return home – to see her again, knowing that she was not his? He didn’t think he could bear it. Or to see her married to another man. She hadn’t married as of yet. He often wondered if that should give him any cause for hope.

  No. He had done the unpardonable. It was hard for him to believe what he had done. It was as if someone else had inhabited him briefly and went along with the idea of marriage – while he was recovering. It was all a blur. Only Izzy was real. Only their time together, their long walks, their peaceful sleeps in each other’s arms. In all the spinning, dizzying world, only Izzy was real. But she had moved on.

  But then why had she written this past year? Charles had told him of the incident last Christmas when he was home. How stunned Izzy had been to hear that his marriage was long over. That news had jarred him. To think that Izzy had believed him married all those years. In his heart, he had only been married to her. He should have listened to her, back before he joined the Canadian Air Force. She had wanted to get married. He had said no. He had wanted to protect her. If he had listened to her, they would still be together. He would be going home to her now.

  What to do – stay in England or go home? Part of him wanted to stay and help out. A bigger part of him wanted to go home. Home to a green land full of happy people and standing cities – to full tables and happy children. He wondered how long the rationing would last in England. And the continent. Home. To a land untouched by bombs and fire and wraith-like figures wandering, searching for food, for a home, for family. So much was gone. He felt none of the euphoria others did. In the beginning he did. But then the reports started to come in – of revenge and retribution. In Czechoslovakia, France, Belgium. German civilians lined up along roads and shot in the back. Thousands of women in France humiliated for consorting with Germans – many of the charges unfounded, but people were out for blood and perhaps now was the time to settle an old score with a woman who had rebuffed a suitor. Some were killed. What was the point of defeating evil if the victor then behaved in the same way? He pressed on his eyes. And the Soviets. What they were doing to German women turned his stomach. Maybe he should go home. Try to do some good there. But live in the same city as Izzy and not be able to see her? He couldn’t imagine it. It was all so awful. He couldn’t bear any of it –

  “Anything else, sir?”

  Red gripped the cup between his hands.

  “Can I bring anything else?”

  Red realized that someone had been talking to him. He looked up, momentarily perplexed to find a kindly old woman smiling down at him. Flyaway white hair, kind blue eyes, a tray under her arm, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Red teared up at the simple kindness she showed him.

  She patted his shoulder. “I think you could do with a warmup. I’ll be right back with a fresh cup.”

  Red nodded his thanks.

  What a kind old woman. He had a feeling that he would always remember those few seconds of maternal gentleness in a cold and dismal world. A reminder of what they had been fighting for, a reminder of what he had to live for – goodness, kindness...

  He looked around and took comfort in the solidity of the oak tables and chairs, the drizzle running down the window panes, the anchoring of laughter and conversations, a clang from the kitchen, the smells of food, a flash of headlights outside. At a table by the window, a couple leaned into each other with love in their eyes. A group of men stood at the bar, arms flung around shoulders, a friendly slap on the back in greeting as someone joined them. Humanity. Simple, beautiful humanity that made him want to weep.

  The elderly waitress returned with a cup of steaming tea and a shot of whiskey. “On the house, soldier.” She patted his shoulder again and left to tend another table.

  “Thank you.” His words came out in a whisper.

  Red added the shot of whiskey to his tea and drank gratefully, allowing it to warm him through and through. After a few minutes, he realized how dark the day had become, and paid his bill.

  He put on his coat and hat and left the restaurant. Outside, he pulled his collar up, and walked through the sleety rain. Though it was dark, he made his way to the park, and stood near the bench. He looked out over the river and softly spoke his evening prayer: “Izzy.”

  The lamplight near the small arched bridge glowed in the cold rain. A few scattered lights reflected on the river. He turned around and walked to his room.

  Chapter 14

  As usual, Ursula stood at the kitchen window in the morning, waiting to see if Friedrich would be dropped off by Mr. Creight. Though she tried to be level-headed about their situation, she sometimes indulged in happy visions of the future. Imagining the day when Friedrich would be able to return. How they would have a house of their own, or perhaps move to a city and start life afresh.

  Her hand went to her earring and a soft smile transformed her face. Friedrich promised to buy her an amethyst ring to match the earrings, like the one he saw last year when he was working over at the river. Perhaps even the same one, he had said. Perhaps it would still be there. They would cross the river, picnic along the water, and visit the little shop where he saw the ring. He would buy it, slip it on her finger, and call her his wife.

  Her smile slowly left her lips. Friedrich was being used more and more at the camp. Their time together was getting shorter and shorter. In truth, their future was an utter blank. Perhaps none of those things she dreamed about would ever happen. Perhaps he would be kept away for a long time. Perhaps…

  She abandoned those thoughts and clung to the one thing she was sure of. That she would wait for Friedrich. Until she was old and gray, she would wait for him, or seek him out and bring him back to her…

  “You’re wasting your time,” Eugene said
to her, coming into the kitchen. “It’s almost 10:00. They would have been here by now.”

  Kate sat at the table, reviewing her accounts notebook. She glared at Eugene over her reading glasses, then addressed Ursula. “Why don’t you come into town with us, Ursula? We’ll only be gone a few hours. Jessica wants to do a little shopping while I help Mildred organize the raffle for the food drive. Shirley’s over in Greenfield visiting her cousin, so Jessica will be on her own.”

  Ursula shook her head. “I think I’ll get started on the ironing. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a walk while Frankie’s asleep.”

  “Of course. I’ll listen for him. Bundle up, though. It’s cold out there. More snow’s on the way.”

  Kate watched Ursula as she left the house and walked down the lane. Brisk, restless steps. “She’s ready to burst from the tension.”

  Eugene ignored Kate’s comment and went into the pantry, opening and closing cupboards. “Where’d you move that jar of nails you always kept? I need to fix the shelf in the cellar.”

  When he didn’t get an answer, he stuck his head out of the pantry and saw Kate staring at him with her arms folded.

  He leaned against the doorjamb to the pantry. “Go ahead. Say what’s on your mind, Mom.”

  “I don’t like the way you speak to the girls. Especially Ursula.”

  “I just pointed out that they’re not coming today.”

  “It’s the tone you always use with her. Abrupt, disapproving – as if she needs any more trouble in her life. Even when Friedrich is here, she can’t speak freely to him.”

  “That’s because of Creight.”

  “And you. And you know it.”

  “I stood up for her at the Legion hall.”

  “And called more attention to her predicament.”

  Eugene threw his hands up. “I can’t do anything right.”

  “I’m not saying that. You were right to defend her, but you have to be sensitive to her situation. It hasn’t been easy for her. And you talk to Jessica as if she’s still ten years old.”