Christmastime 1945 Read online

  “I’m not going to lie for you.”

  “I’m not asking you to. Just don’t say anything.” He pointed to the rocking chairs. “Take a look. That’s one of the best things about working here. I get to see merchandise as it comes in. Like these rockers. This is the one I think Mom will like.”

  Tommy looked at the tag. “It says SOLD.”

  “I put that there,” Gabriel said with pride. “Until I could show you.”

  Tommy flipped the tag around and gaped at the price. “We can’t afford that!”

  Gabriel beamed. “Employees get a discount. Mr. G said I could have it at cost. That’s half.”

  Tommy sat in the chair and rocked. “I don’t know…”

  “And he said I can work most of it off. So it won’t cost much at all. But I’d have to work for a few months.”

  Tommy continued rocking but his eyes narrowed with worry. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Gabe. Mom would be furious.”

  “But I’m not doing anything unethical.”

  Tommy stopped rocking. “Unethical?”

  Gabriel took out his notebook, flipped through a few pages and placed his finger on a word. “Unethical. Wrong.”

  “So just say ‘wrong’ – why do you have to make everything complicated?”

  Gabriel gave it some thought. “I like having more choices.”

  Tommy rolled his eyes and continued rocking.

  “It’s comfortable, isn’t it? Admit it, Tommy. Mom would love it. It’s a beaut.”

  “All right, all right.” Tommy jumped out of the rocking chair. “You’re right about the chair. But you have to tell Mom about the job.”

  “I will. But I have to find the right time.”

  “Come on. I have to get home. And so do you.”

  The boys walked to the front counter. Gabriel slipped off his apron and hung it on the hook. “Tommy agrees about the rocking chair, Mr. G.”

  “A wonderful Christmas present, indeed!” Mr. G made out a bill of sale and slipped it into the cash register. “You’ve made an excellent choice. A little sanding, a judicious touch of stain here and there, and light coat of oil. Henry said he’d be happy to help you with this.”

  Tommy gave another indignant look to Gabriel. “So you already have it all planned?”

  “Henry was here yesterday and I asked his opinion about it. He said we can store it down in Mrs. Kuntzman’s basement. And he’ll help us deliver it for Christmas.”

  Tommy leaned on the glass display case, staring at the jewelry arrayed on the top shelf.

  “And,” Gabriel continued excitedly, “Billy thinks his Dad has the stain and oil. From when they worked on that cabinet over the summer. He’ll let me know and bring it here. So we’re all set!”

  Tommy listened but his eyes kept going back to the jewelry.

  “Something catch your fancy, Tommy?” Mr. G asked.

  Tommy began to crack his knuckles. “Can I see that necklace? The round one?”

  “Ah, the locket? Lovely, isn’t it?” He took out the pale blue box with the locket and set it before Tommy. “A circular pendant. I’d say 18 karat gold, with a small opal in the center. Victorian.”

  Tommy gently lifted it. “Everything’s Victorian,” he muttered.

  “That’s because Queen Victoria reigned for almost sixty-four years! 1837-1901, to be exact.”

  Gabriel whipped out his notebook and jotted down the information.

  Tommy opened the little locket. “I think Amy would like it. What do you think, Gabriel?”

  “She’s like Mom that way. She loves all the old-time things. The opal really sparkles, like there’s a little fire inside.”

  Mr. G pointed to the opal. “Curious thing about opals. While it appears that a bit of fire has been trapped inside the stone, just the opposite is true. It’s water that gives opals their fire!” He chuckled at the paradox. “I have a book on minerals somewhere here…” He fumbled around a stack of books behind the counter. “Hmm. I’ll have to locate it later.” He turned to Tommy and Gabriel. “More vital intel anon.”

  Tommy turned the box over and saw the price, gulped, and pushed the locket towards Mr. G. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

  “Of course. There’s still plenty of time before Christmas.”

  An old pendulum clock on the wall behind the counter began to chime. Gabriel saw Tommy’s confusion as he glanced from it to the mantel clock on the counter.

  Gabriel pointed to the wall clock. “That’s the only clock in the shop that’s set at the real time. That way, people can hear the chimes of the different clocks better.” He slipped on his coat, and lifted his books.

  Tommy blinked at the explanation, but his mind was still on the locket.

  “Well, my shift is over. See you tomorrow, Mr. G.”

  “Au revoir, Gabriel. Arrivederci, Tommy!”

  Tommy opened his mouth to answer, but settled on a wave.

  The boys left the shop and walked a few blocks in silence, with Gabriel looking at Tommy’s frown now and then.

  “You’re not sore, are you? Aren’t you happy about the present for Mom?”

  Tommy nodded.

  “Then why are you so quiet?”

  “I’m thinking about the locket. I know Amy would really like it.”

  “So why don’t you get it for her?”

  Tommy screwed up his mouth. “I don’t know. You don’t think it’s too – romantic?”

  “A locket? I don’t see how.”

  They walked a few more steps and Tommy stopped.

  Gabriel had been studying the clouds and bumped into him. “What?”

  “I know it’s the perfect gift for her. Did you think it was nice?”

  “Sure. Why didn’t you have Mr. G hold it for you?”

  “I wasn’t sure.” Tommy began cracking his knuckles again. “What if it’s gone when I go back?”

  They stared at each other, spun around, and ran back to the store, just as Mr. G was flipping the CLOSED sign around.

  Tommy explained that he wanted to buy the locket for Amy and would pay a little bit each week.

  “Fine, fine,” said Mr. G, making out another bill of sale. “And since you’re the brother of my favorite employee” – he gave a little chuckle, since Gabriel was his only employee – “you can have it at a discount.” He showed Tommy the revised price.

  Tommy’s face brightened as he looked from Mr. G to Gabriel and back. “Thanks. Thanks a lot. That’s swell!”

  “That’s just dandy, Mr. G!” added Gabriel.

  “And you can pick it up whenever you like.”

  They were soon on their way again, running now that they were late for dinner and the day was growing dark.

  Tommy and Gabriel sprinted up the stairs and into the apartment. “Hi Mom – ” Gabriel dropped his voice when he saw that she was pointing to Charlotte asleep in the bassinette.

  Lillian looked up at the clock when they arrived. “Where were you boys? I was starting to get worried.”

  “Sorry, Mom. We were…” Tommy was unsure of how to answer.

  “We were looking for Christmas presents,” answered Gabriel.

  “I thought you were with Mickey and Billy.”

  Tommy washed his hands in the bathroom, listening to Gabriel’s answers.

  “We decided to shop for some presents. Tommy found something for Amy. A locket.”

  “A locket?”

  Tommy nodded, coming into the kitchen. “Just something I think she’ll like. It has a little opal in the center. It’s Victorian.”

  “It sounds lovely,” Lillian said.

  Gabriel ran to wash his hands and was soon seated at the table. He helped himself to a big scoop of mashed potatoes with butter melting on top.

  Lillian noticed that a notebook had fallen from Gabriel’s pocket and she reached to pick it up.

  A flash of fear crossed Gabriel’s face. “I could have lost it! All the information I’ve gathered!” He set it next to him a
nd placed a hand over his heart in relief. “It would take months to recreate it.”

  Lillian smiled at Gabriel’s dedication. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enthused over a school project. Which class is it for? You never told me.”

  Tommy looked at Gabriel.

  “I call it my General Knowledge notebook.”

  “May I?”

  Tommy exchanged a nervous glance with Gabriel and got up to get more milk.

  “Sure.”

  Lillian flipped through the pages, landing on the most recent pages. Her brow furrowed on reading the miscellany of words. “Bluebirds. Bells. Small ones. QV… Opals. Water makes the fire. More vital intel anon.” She looked up at Gabriel.

  “That’s what Mr. G always says. ‘More vital intel anon!’” Gabriel said with a flourish. “He has some more information on opals for Tommy.” Gabriel took a bite of mashed potatoes and closed his eyes in delight. “Mmm.”

  Lillian turned the page back and uttered a soft surprise. “We are the music makers?”

  “That’s part of a poem by Arthur O’Shaughnessy.”

  “Why, Gabriel! That was my mother’s favorite poem! I used to read it all the time.” She gestured to the bookshelves in the living room. “It’s in that red and gold book on the top shelf.”

  “Swell! I’ll copy out the rest after dinner. Add it to my notes.” Gabriel patted his notebook and gave Tommy a small smile of assurance.

  Chapter 6

  Mr. Creight arrived late afternoon to take the POWs back to camp. As always, Kate asked him to come inside. As always, he declined. He tended to arrive early and wait for the POWs outside in the cold, sometimes sitting inside his truck, sometimes walking around the farmyard. Time on his hands weighed heavily, and he did his best to stay busy. He kept to himself and resented any intrusion into his misery.

  Kate and Ursula sat at the table writing a few Christmas cards. Frankie had been fed and now sat in his high chair, playing with animal crackers. From time to time, Ursula walked to the window and looked out over the farmyard. Ed had taken Friedrich and Gustav to the meadow to reinforce one stretch of the fence. She had hoped they would return before Mr. Creight arrived. A few words in the morning was all she had managed to have with Friedrich.

  Kate glanced over at Ursula, understanding her disappointment. “Ed said Otto’s on the mend and is eager to get back to work. Abe Creight won’t be here much longer. I think we’ll all breathe a sigh of relief. It’s hard to be around such bitterness.”

  “I don’t blame him,” said Ursula. “I was bitter for a long time after Francy’s death.” As if just realizing something, Ursula looked up at her mother. “You never were, were you? I know you were heartbroken. Bereft. But you were never bitter.”

  Kate signed the Christmas card and put it inside the envelope. “I didn’t want to be. The weight of grief is heavy enough without adding anger to it. Does no good. But I had dealt with grief before.”

  “Mr. Creight lost his wife a few years back. Like you did with Dad.”

  “Well, we all deal with pain in our own way, but sometimes it takes over. It becomes stronger than anything we can control.” She selected another Christmas card, and sighed at the image of a cheerful family seated around a table. “I hope his pain lessens. Jeremy was his only son. And his youngest child. His daughters are all grown and married.” Kate shook her head. “Poor man. At least I had my children with me.”

  Ursula looked out the window and saw Mr. Creight stroking one of the cows near the fence. She could see his suffering in the way he stood, the tension in his shoulders, his gazing out at the bleak snow-covered fields. He wore his sorrow like a dark cloak gathered tightly about him – the only vestige of his beloved son. He raised his face to the heavy, gray winter sky and moved to the entrance of the barn, rubbing his hands together. Ursula felt a wave of sadness. He looked so cold and alone out there.

  “I think I’ll take him some coffee,” she said.

  Kate jumped up to answer the telephone and was soon discussing yet another drive with Mildred Bloomfield, while Ursula prepared the thermos. Kate motioned that she would keep an eye on Frankie.

  When Ursula walked into the barn, Mr. Creight noted her arrival, and turned away. “He’s not here. They’re out in the meadow with Ed.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and moved back to the entrance, his eyes locked on the steely gray sky.

  Ursula hadn’t expected him to refer to Friedrich. There was pain in his voice but not malice.

  “I came to see you, Mr. Creight.”

  He bristled at her words. “I got nothing to say to you.”

  Ursula walked up to him. “Mr. Creight, Jeremy and I were friends since grade school. I always liked him. But there was never anything between us. Only friendship.”

  Bitterness filled his voice. “You were blind to what he felt.”

  Ursula’s brow creased as she tried to recall the last few times she and Jeremy had spoken. In general, she was quiet, not one to have a large group of friends, and had recognized the same in Jeremy. It had made them quiet allies in a way. “I – I think Jeremy and I were friends because we were alike. But he never spoke to me in any way except as a friend. Truly, Mr. Creight.”

  The rigidity in his shoulders lessened. “Well, he wouldn’t, would he? Not without any encouragement from you.”

  Again, Ursula played back their time in high school. Jeremy was always courteous, friendly. But nothing more.

  Mr. Creight let out a deep breath and put his foot on a bale of hay. He leaned forward on his knee and crossed his arms against it. He kept his eyes on the ground. His voice dropped into gentleness. “I had no right to speak to you the way I did the other day. Jeremy would be furious with me.”

  “No,” Ursula said with a gentle smile. “He often spoke of you. Always lovingly.”

  She lifted the thermos and he gave a slight nod. She opened the lid and poured him a cup of steaming coffee.

  He accepted it and nodded his thanks. He took a sip. “The truth is, he didn’t tell me how he felt about you. But I saw it. I pieced it together. Especially once he was called away. His letters always mentioned you. He said if I saw you in town to say hello for him.”

  “I would gladly have written to him. Had I known.”

  “He had too much pride for those kinds of letters, the kind the other girls wrote to the GIs. All fluff and talk about them coming home.”

  They stood silently for a few moments.

  “I felt so sad when I heard about his death. I lost my brother in the war. I know what that pain is. That loss. I’m so sorry.”

  Mr. Creight finished his coffee and shook out the drops from his cup. His face had hardened, and Ursula understood that pity was the one thing he couldn’t go near. It would surely break him.

  He straightened and his chest puffed out as if it were a shield. “I’ll be fine. I’m a practical man. A farmer. We understand life and death better than most people. Are forced to accept it.” He handed her the cup. “Thank you for the coffee.”

  Ursula nodded. She realized that the door to his heart had clicked shut and now he just wanted to be alone. He turned and walked to his truck.

  The others were now coming back from the meadow, and Ursula returned to the farmhouse.

  She lifted Frankie from his highchair and carried him up to her room where she stood before her bedroom window. This was their practice – so that Friedrich could catch a glimpse of his son. Gustav got into the truck, and just before Friedrich slid into the seat he raised his eyes to her window. He took a moment, as if to adjust his jacket, and his face showed a glimmer of a smile.

  Ursula watched the truck drive down the lane and turn onto the country road. She followed it until she could no longer see it. She had barely spoken to Friedrich, and it could be days before he was back again. She never knew when he would arrive.

  She pulled the lace curtain across the window and then gave Frankie a bath. After he was dried and dressed, she combed his hair and
then settled him on the bed. She laughed at the neatness of his hair.

  “You look older with your hair combed.” She stretched out next to him and propped herself up on one elbow. She ran her hand over Frankie’s cheek, his dark hair. “You’re going to look just like your papa, do you know that?”

  Frankie’s attention was caught by the amethyst earrings she always wore. He reached up to one.

  “Oh, no you don’t! Last time you pulled it.” She playfully nibbled his tiny fist, which set him laughing. He wriggled for more, giggling in anticipation. “You want to play, but it’s time for you to sleep, my darling.”

  She began to sing a lullaby, and Frankie’s focus shifted to her mouth. His blinks became slower and longer, and soon he was asleep.

  Ursula pulled the quilt over her and tucked it around Frankie. She thought of the longing in Friedrich’s face as he looked up at them. She curved herself more closely around Frankie, fearing what lay ahead for them all.

  With a flood of longing, she remembered how happy she had been in the spring, with the return of Friedrich and the birth of Frankie. They had enjoyed a few moments of pure bliss – moments when she was sure that everything would work out for them, somehow.

  Then the slow crumble came, the disintegration of their happiness. It began, oddly enough, with the fall of Germany. May 8th, Victory in Europe. She had been thrilled and allowed herself to believe in a future for them.

  But V-E Day had changed people in unexpected ways, especially as more details of the war were made known, and as more servicemen returned home with information. The attitude towards the POWs shifted, hardening. Stories began to spread about how poorly the Germans had treated American prisoners. People, tired of the rationing, resented giving up their share of food to the enemy. Within weeks, the POWs experienced a drastic reduction in their food.

  The news from Europe changed the POWs, as well. Gustav was not the same since the bombing of Dresden. A beautiful city, flattened. Obliterated. The jewel of Germany crushed, civilian life stamped out. Gustav had insisted that his wife and children go there and stay with his wife’s family, believing that they would be safer there. That had been in February, and still there was no word. It was almost certain that his family had not survived. His grief affected Karl and Friedrich.