Christmastime 1945 Page 4

  Lillian waited for Izzy to say more. “Do you think he’ll be returning anytime soon?”

  Izzy let out a deep breath and broke off a piece of sole. “Red’s not in a hurry to come home. If he ever does. His last letter said he would stay in London for the transition. He feels that he’s needed there. He’s juggling his time between administration work at the U.S. office trying to get our boys home, and volunteering at a veteran’s hospital as a sort of counselor.”

  “Do you – do you think – will he…”

  Izzy raised her eyes and smiled. “That about sums up our position. All questions, no answers. It took a while for us – for me – to start writing back to him. But it’s become a lifeline for me. Sometimes, I feel so close to him, and I forget the bad years. He filled something in me that has left a void. When he, when he – left – I was like an empty vessel clanging noisily at every bump. Now, even though it’s just letters, I feel more complete, more rooted.”

  Lillian took a bite of her chicken and closely observed Izzy. She had often tried to ask about Red, but Izzy never wanted to talk about him. Lillian thought Izzy had closed that chapter and was somewhat surprised to find her still so preoccupied with him. She realized that Izzy wanted to talk about Red.

  “Besides what was between us,” said Izzy, growing more animated, “I’ve always found him so interesting – the way he sees things, the way he thinks. I’ve missed that. Our conversations, our long walks, our quiet times together...”

  The sadness and longing in her voice was impossible to miss.

  “So many things.” Izzy looked out the window and a wistful smile came to her lips. “Red loved poetry and would read to me by candlelight.” Her eyes filled with warmth. “Our nights were always magical – it was something we believed in.”

  Lillian was struck by the intimacy of the comment and realized how much Izzy had suffered over Red. And how much she still loved him.

  “Maybe if you asked Red to come home? Maybe then you could – ”

  Izzy gave a hint of a shrug. “I’ve thought of every scenario. And I just don’t know what to do. We had something so perfect. And it was broken. I don’t know what I feel. In a way, I see it as a relic from the past – and it feels safe, protected there. Something wonderful that once happened to me.”

  Then, as if she had ventured into dangerous territory, Izzy waved her hand and gave a dazzling smile. “That’s the past. I’m so happy for you that Charles will be home soon. Your first Christmas since having Charlotte. How absolutely marvelous!”

  “I hope it’s soon.” Lillian understood that, for now, Izzy needed to come back to the present. “Over the years, I’ve come to expect delays and disappointments. You know he was near Ceylon when Japan surrendered. It took so long for his ship to turn back. Once he arrives in London, he’ll arrange for transport home. Of course, there will be delays. London is still in ruins.”

  They caught up over their meal, with Lillian answering Izzy’s questions about Tommy and Gabriel. When they finished, they paid and slipped on their coats.

  “Yes, I suppose I better be getting back,” said Izzy, glancing at her watch. Lillian noticed that it was the watch Red had given her when they first met.

  “How’s life at Rockwell Publishing, Izzy? You haven’t mentioned it once.”

  Izzy pulled on her gloves. “Good. Fine. A lot of men are returning, resuming their old positions. The place has a completely different feel about it now. Many, if not most, of the women have left. Which was to be expected. The returning soldiers need jobs, and Rockwell has rehired most of his former employees. The ones who came back.”

  They exited the restaurant and began walking down the crowded sidewalk towards Rockwell Publishing.

  “I suppose the women were happy to leave?” Lillian asked.

  “For the most part, yes. Though some were resentful. They gave it their all during the war, put in long hours, got paid less. And now they’re told they’re no longer needed.”

  “I understand how they must feel. I’m lucky to have my work. I think I would have been crushed if I suddenly had nothing.”

  Izzy agreed, and then stopped when they reached Rockwell Publishing. She glanced up at the building. “But it’s not the same, Lilly. It all feels different.”

  “Even for you?”

  Izzy gave it some thought. “It’s funny. Now that I have a secure position, I find it doesn’t matter much. I love my job, but something is missing. I’m not sure what. I used to feel that Rockwell and the company needed me. Now?” She gave a dismissive shrug as an answer.

  Then she took hold of Lillian’s arm. “Speaking of Rockwell,” she said in her old playful tone, “he’s hosting a welcome home Christmas party for all the returning soldiers.”

  “Really?” Lillian asked. “That must be the softening influence of his wife, now that they’re back together.”

  “And he invited you.”

  Lillian turned her head in disbelief. “Did he really? I have to say I’m surprised.”

  “Well, his exact words were: ‘Make sure you fill the room with plenty of good-lookin’ dames,’ and he mentioned you.”

  Lillian’s mouth dropped open – and then she laughed. “That sounds more like him. I’d be delighted to come.” She hugged Izzy goodbye, and waved at her as she pushed through the revolving doors and stepped into the lobby.

  Chapter 4

  Kate and Eugene lingered over breakfast, while Jessica and Ursula sat at the other end of the kitchen table sorting through clothing for the Red Cross refugee drive. Next to Ursula, Frankie sat in his high chair playing with his stuffed farm animals that Jessica had made.

  Kate pushed the platter of pancakes closer to Eugene. “How about some more? Or another helping of hash browns?”

  Eugene smiled and shook his head. “You’re spoiling me, Mom. I haven’t eaten this good since I left.” He raised his cup to the coffee pot she brought over from the stove. “Just a warmup – then I need to get back out there. Ed and I are going to the hardware store after the POWs leave and I need to get a few things done before then.”

  Kate saw the disappointment in Ursula’s face. Friedrich was working on the farm today, but only for half a day. There was no denying, the POWs were at the farm less and less. The camp commanders were using them to assist with the loads of paperwork to be processed, utilizing Friedrich’s knowledge of English. Though Ursula tried to hide her feelings, the increasing tension in her was noticeable. It was just a matter of time before Friedrich would be taken away.

  Jessica picked up the stuffed rooster Frankie had dropped, and then addressed Eugene. “When will you go through your old clothes and shoes? You must have things you could give for the drive.”

  Ursula, in the habit of glancing out the window, sat up straight and narrowed her eyes. But the truck she saw out on the country road was the mail truck. She folded a sweater and placed it in the box at their feet.

  “There’s the mail truck,” said Jessica. “I could do with a little break.”

  But Eugene had already jumped to his feet. “I’ll get it,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the back porch.

  “I promise not to hide any letters addressed to you, Eugene. Even those from your girlfriend.”

  He slammed the door and Jessica rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t tease him,” said Kate. “Perhaps he does have someone.” She held up a pair of dungarees and assessed them. “They need a patch or two but they have a few more years left in them.”

  “Then why doesn’t he just come out and say so?” Jessica lifted an old quilt to be added to the pile of items. “Why all the mystery?”

  Kate leveled her eyes on Jessica. “Well, I can think of a number of reasons, and many that would only cause heartache. So watch your words.”

  The sharpness in her mother’s voice caused Jessica to stop inspecting the quilt. She stared down at the floor, blinking in thought. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Apparently not.”

>   Kate had moved to the window and was watching Eugene come back down the lane. He was walking briskly. She pulled the curtain wider.

  “He’s smiling,” she said, causing both girls to look up.

  They waited expectantly as he came inside.

  “Good news?” asked Kate.

  Eugene smacked the letter with his hand. “Just received my discharge papers!”

  Kate hugged him. “I’m so glad to hear that. First Jimmy and now you – Paul is sure to follow soon.”

  “Earned enough points for a January 1st discharge.” He turned away from the noise Frankie was making, banging his hands against his tray.

  “That’s wonderful, Eugene.” Ursula smiled and waited for him to say something.

  “Yep.” He was soon on the telephone telling Burly his news.

  Pain shot to Ursula’s eyes. Eugene’s coldness to her, and her baby, increasingly weighed on her. She lifted Frankie and spoke softly. “Time for your bath.”

  Jessica stood and glanced at the clock. She bunched up the quilt and took a spool of thread and a needle. “My program’s on. I’ll be in the living room mending this. I’ll embroider over some of the worn spots.” Music, talking, and laughter from the radio soon sounded, with an occasional chuckle from Jessica.

  Kate brought the dishes to the sink, washed them, and set them in the drying rack. She was unsure what to do about Eugene’s disapproval of Ursula. The word around town was that Ursula was married to a soldier who had not yet returned. But as the months wore on, the story was beginning to thin. Still no word? Had she been jilted? Some people hinted that her baby resembled the handsome POW who worked on their farm. Sooner or later, the truth would come out.

  Kate touched the side of the coffee pot – still hot. She poured herself another cup and stirred in some milk. She couldn’t blame Eugene. And yet Friedrich was not a Nazi – far from it. In fact, he reminded her very much of Eugene. Hard working, respectful, with a quick intelligence and a gentleness beneath a reserved demeanor – she stopped that line of thought. Eugene would be furious to know she was comparing them in that way.

  She sat at the other end of the table and regarded the pile of clothes to be sorted. She lifted an old dress of hers that she had always loved but didn’t have much occasion to wear. Blue-gray with a scatter of burgundy and white posies and gathered fabric at the shoulders. Perhaps a bit old-fashioned, but she always thought of it as her elegant dress. She spread it before her and briefly imagined it on some poor refugee in Europe. She folded it neatly and added it to the pile of clothes. She hoped the prettiness of it might bring a touch of pleasure to the woman who would wear it.

  Kate imagined a thin, worn woman unfolding the dress – then she stood and went to the hutch, opening its top drawer. She took a pencil and a bit of paper and sat back down. Realizing that the refugee would most likely not understand it, nevertheless, she wrote: With love, from America. She folded it and tucked it into the dress pocket.

  She took a sip of coffee and lifted another dress. Then she dropped it on her lap and stared out the window. It was hard to ignore the tension between Eugene and Ursula. She hadn’t counted on Eugene figuring out the truth about Ursula and Friedrich so quickly.

  Her plan had been to say nothing about the baby’s father until after Friedrich was gone. She didn’t want to burden Eugene with the information. And she didn’t want to make any trouble for Friedrich. Or Ursula.

  That thought made her even more downhearted. With Friedrich gone, what would Ursula do? Karl had already been taken away over a month ago. Friedrich and Gustav anxiously awaited the dates for their departures. They would likely be assigned to hard manual labor in a bombed-out Allied country. ‘Payback,’ as she had heard some of the townspeople call it.

  A few snowflakes fell past the window and she let her gaze rest on the bare trees against the gray sky. Kate didn’t know how Eugene had found out about Ursula and Friedrich, but he knew. After a few weeks home, he had figured it out. Of course Frankie looked like Friedrich, but it was more than that. Eugene had surely picked up on the little threads of connection between a husband and wife, between a father and his son. There was no hiding it.

  Home for a month and Eugene had made the discovery that she – Ursula’s mother, for God’s sake – had missed! She shook her head at her own blindness during Ursula’s pregnancy. All her thoughts were on Eugene back then – not knowing if he was dead or alive. And yet, as she thought back to a year ago, it was as if she had known, deep inside, but didn’t know that she knew. She shook her head against such fuzzy logic and took a sip of coffee. The fact was, it had taken two wallops to the head for her to realize the truth.

  She leaned back in the chair, remembering that day in January when the first, stunning wallop had come. Ursula had been doing the ironing. She stood at the ironing board and had pressed her hands to her lower back just as Kate came in. Ursula, with her back arched, stood in profile. Kate’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in shock as it struck her – Ursula was pregnant! Reserved, aloof, mysterious Ursula – pregnant!

  Kate now wondered if her exploding anger had resulted from the fact that Ursula had kept the secret to herself, or because she – a mother of six children and two miscarriages – had missed all the signs?

  Ursula had hung her head. “Yes, mother,” she said gently. “I’m pregnant. And, yes, I’m married.”

  “And – and you didn’t tell me?” Kate could barely choke out her words.

  “I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

  “I don’t approve. Of course, I don’t! Why all this secrecy?” Kate racked her mind for a clue, any clue. “It’s all that business in the fall, isn’t it? Those trips to Peoria.”

  Ursula turned her head away.

  “I should have known! A soldier?” Kate had demanded, remembering something about an officer.

  Ursula had squeezed her eyes shut. “A soldier.”

  Kate had stormed out of the room and left it at that. Until the second wallop.

  A month of coldness between mother and daughter followed, with Kate waiting to be confided in. She kept an eye on Ursula – half expecting the soldier from Peoria to show up at their door. But he never did. Then, surprising Kate, in the following month Ursula had grown happier instead of sadder. Her fretting and sorrow lessened, and Kate had caught her and Jessica whispering and smiling. The POWs had just arrived for the spring planting and there was a palpable buzz in the house. She felt it herself, delighted to have the same three POWs back with them.

  And then all the pieces had fallen together, with such a loud and obvious bang that she felt it like a smack to the head. Of course! And all those little signs that had sat at the periphery of knowing had coalesced right in front of her in a silent explosion.

  Ursula had been taking the laundry from the clothesline. Friedrich was passing by, walking from the barn to the machine shed. They didn’t see Kate watching from the window. But she saw the soft smile that passed between them, saw the gentle stroking of Ursula’s hand over her swollen belly.

  “Friedrich!” Kate had whispered, staggering backwards and dropping heavily into a chair. And felt – what? Anger at the subterfuge. Outrage at the position it put them all in. Relief because it all made sense. And, God help her, trembling happiness. She had lifted her apron to her eyes and cried. She now understood the reason for Ursula’s secrecy. And she realized the depth of their predicament and how they must have suffered. That was the moment she fully accepted the situation. The apron came up to her eyes again, only this time she was laughing-crying. Her first grandchild! She had never admitted it to herself before then, but she loved Friedrich almost like a son.

  She kept it to herself and played along with the soldier story. After all, he was a soldier, she admitted, finding herself suddenly in Ursula’s camp. It all began to make sense. Ursula’s distance, her sorrow, the tension – good God, even the arguments with Jimmy the previous Christmas! Could he have possibly known? And Jessica? Suddenly,
she was sure they knew, were in on it. She could feel it in her bones. I’ve raised some wily children, she thought – though a smile played about her lips.

  Kate kept the secret that day, and for many weeks later. And though she was happy, it was mixed with worry – what on earth were they going to do?

  Kate now let out a sigh, folded the dress on her lap, and sorted through a few more clothes. She glanced at the time – she would have to get busy with baking the bread soon. Yet she took a minute to finish her coffee, not ready to leave those days back in the spring.

  She gave a self-satisfied smile at her own duplicity, on remembering the day of the birth in April. Ursula had gone into labor in the morning. The baby had been born at the house, late at night with the midwife in attendance. Ursula was sleeping the following morning when Ed arrived with the POWs. Kate remembered how pale and drawn Friedrich looked, as if he hadn’t slept.

  Ed had come up to the porch, waiting to hear the news. He stood just inside the front door, twisting his hat round and around until Kate and Jessica came down the stairs.

  Jessica ran to Ed and embraced him. “It’s a boy, Ed! A healthy, sweet, beautiful baby boy. They’re sleeping now.”

  Tears welled up in his eyes. “Opal said it would be a boy. Though I don’t know how she reckoned it. I told her there’s no way in heck she could know. She knitted this here blanket in white.” He gave the bag to Kate. Jessica uttered a gasp of delight at the sweet baby blanket. “Then to prove her point, she made this.” He handed over a pale blue baby sweater and matching booties and hat, eliciting another cry from Jessica.

  “Oh, how lovely!” said Kate. “Wait until Ursula sees these.”

  Out of the window she saw Friedrich, Gustav, and Karl, awaiting Ed’s instructions for the day. Friedrich held on to the wagon, as if for support. Kate had to smile.

  “Jessica, you go on and get some sleep. You were up all night. Go on.”

  Jessica nodded. “I think I will just lie down for a few minutes. While they’re sleeping.”