Battle Hymns (13 page)

She turned her head. The man Will spoke of wasn’t
hard to find. He wore a black suit and held his fedora at his side.
His normally slick hair was disheveled. He stood next to Mrs.
Farrell and Nurse Parker, staring straight at her.

“That’s Nick’s father. I wonder what he’s doing
here.” She turned back to Will. His face had paled. “Please excuse
me.”

Charlotte stood and walked toward Mr. Adler. Fear
sprung in her chest, sending her heart racing. There was no reason
for him to visit under amiable circumstances. She’d never seen him
unless she was with Nick or Mrs. Adler.

Mr. Adler’s shoulders drooped. His eyes were glassy.
A slip of paper was folded between his fingers. “There’s been a
telegram. I’m so sorry,” he said, staring at the linoleum
floor.

Charlotte didn’t need to read the telegram to know
what it said.

Her worst fear had come true.

Nick had been killed.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Her knees buckled, and
Mr. Adler caught her before she fell to the floor. She clutched his
suit jacket as she wept, working herself into hysterics.

Mr. Adler handed her a handkerchief. “Let me take you
home. Where’s your coat?”

Nurse Parker stepped forward. “Let’s move this into
the hallway. I’ll get her belongings for you.” She led them out of
the ward and then ran to the nurses’ lounge. She returned and
handed Charlotte’s pocketbook and wool coat to Mr. Adler.

He draped the coat over Charlotte’s shoulders and led
her outside. She leaned against him the entire way, her feet
shuffling beneath her.

The car ride to her house passed in a blur. She cried
into the handkerchief throughout. This had to be a nightmare.
Please God let it be a nightmare, one from which she’d soon awake.
Only yesterday, she received one of Nick’s letters. He was safe.
They were meant to be together. How could he be gone?

Mr. Adler parked in front of the Donahues’ house. He
helped her out of the car and ushered her up the walkway to the
porch. He knocked on the front door while she buried her nose in
the handkerchief. Her mother answered, smiling.

She took one look at Charlotte and her expression
fell. “Oh my God. Bring her inside.”

Mrs. Donahue led them into the kitchen. She sat
Charlotte at the table and poured a glass of water, urging her
daughter to drink, as Mr. Adler explained the telegram.

Charlotte’s hand trembled so badly she spilled water
on her lap as she took her first sip. It soaked into the fabric of
her Red Cross uniform, lost among her tears. Her engagement ring
sparkled as the diamond caught the light above. Her heart squeezed.
She felt numb . . . lost. This couldn’t be real.

Her mother handed Nick’s father a glass of water.
“How is Barbara handling it?”

“About as well as Charlotte.” He gripped the cup with
both hands. “She locked herself in the bedroom this morning. The
housekeeper called me at the office to tell me to come home. I
discovered the telegram on the floor near the door.”

Mrs. Donahue brushed tears from her eyes. “Thank you
for bringing Charlotte home. I’m truly sorry for your loss. If you
and Barbara need anything at all, Thomas and I are only a phone
call away.”

“Thank you, Helen.” He gulped down the rest of the
water and handed the empty glass back to her. “I should return to
my wife.”

“Of course. Please give her our condolences.”

“I will.” Mr. Adler turned to Charlotte. “I’m sorry.”
With a final nod, he placed his fedora on his head and showed
himself out.

After a few moments of hesitation, Mrs. Donahue
helped her daughter from the chair. “Let’s get you into bed.”

In her bedroom, Charlotte removed her coat and
uniform, stripping down to her slip. Her mother tucked her into bed
and kissed her forehead. “I’ll call your father. Can I get you
anything?”

Charlotte closed her eyes and shook her head. She
didn’t want anything except Nick.

“Try to sleep,” her mother said. Seconds later, her
footsteps echoed on the stairs as she made her way down to the main
floor.

Charlotte flipped onto her side and curled her knees
into her chest. She opened her eyes and stared at the framed, black
and white photograph on the nightstand of her and Nick. It had been
taken on their beach trip last summer. She picked up the frame and
held it near, tracing Nick’s features with her finger. This was as
close to touching him she’d ever get. Sobs overwhelmed her. She
laid the photograph on the bed next to her pillow and closed her
swollen eyelids, praying for her love to come home safe and
sound.

***

“
W
hat time did she fall
asleep?”

“Around three-thirty.”

A hand pressed against Charlotte’s forehead. She
opened her eyes. Her father sat on the edge of her bed. Her mother
stood behind him with her arms crossed. Nick’s death must have been
a dream. But then why was she in her childhood bedroom and not in
her dorm room? Her eyes hurt, and there was a gnawing emptiness in
her stomach. The picture frame on her nightstand wasn’t in its
normal position.

One look at her parents’ worried expressions
confirmed it wasn’t a dream.

Charlotte’s father drew her into his arms as she
cried. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her nose
into his uniform that smelled of tobacco. The aroma reminded her of
her childhood when she used to cry into his shoulder after a
nightmare or a fall in the yard. It didn’t soothe her as it used
to.

She drew away and stared at her left hand. She
rotated the engagement ring around her finger. The piece of jewelry
once symbolized her and Nick’s love and happiness. Now, it conveyed
a whole new meaning. From now on, the ring would be a constant
reminder of a promise that would never come to fruition.

Seventeen

E
xams prevented Charlotte
from holing herself up for the rest of the week. She returned to
Trinity College the next morning to prepare for a history exam that
afternoon. She would fail. There was no way she’d be able to focus
in her grief. She didn’t even care. What was the point when men
were being killed? All of it was meaningless.

To Charlotte’s relief, her friends already knew of
her circumstances. Natalie had been the one to direct Mr. Adler to
the Army Medical Center after he’d shown up at the college to break
the news. After his departure, Evelyn and Sandra had spent the rest
of the afternoon comforting Natalie, who feared that John had also
been killed.

Natalie and Charlotte hardly spoke to each other in
the days that followed. Natalie seemed afraid to mention Nick, and
Charlotte didn’t have any reassurances to offer Natalie regarding
John’s safety. By the end of the week, Natalie received another
letter from John. She didn’t share any details from the note,
though she did say it was written prior to Nick’s death.

Charlotte refused to remove her engagement ring. If
she took it off, she’d blemish Nick’s memory and the promise she
made to never stop loving him, no matter what. Neither did she
return to the Army Medical Center. The soldiers were bound to ask
her what was wrong. She couldn’t tell them her fiancé had been
killed, nor was she in a state to offer them moral support.

Instead, she spent most of her time sitting in her
dorm room. Her notes and textbooks were open in front of her, but
she didn’t study. For several hours a day, she lamented her
loss.

In her mind, she replayed the events of Tuesday
afternoon when Mr. Adler delivered the tragic news. She also
remembered the night she and Nick first met and all the moments
they shared: their dates, the night Nick asked her to marry him,
and the first and only time they made love. Their relationship was
so perfect, and their marriage would have been just as wonderful,
if not more so.

But now she was alone.

If only Nick hadn’t enlisted in the war. If only the
Japanese hadn’t attacked Pearl Harbor. If only Hitler hadn’t
invaded Poland . . . None of this would have
happened. Nick would still be alive and they’d be happily
married.

As Charlotte returned with Sandra from the dining
hall after lunch on Friday, Mrs. Lloyd caught her attention from
the front desk. “Charlotte, you have a letter.”

She took the letter from the matron. Nick’s
handwriting was on the envelope. Tears surged into her eyes. It
seemed cruel that more of his letters would arrive for her. She
ducked her head and staggered toward the staircase.

Sandra accompanied Charlotte up to her room and
paused in the doorway. “Do you want me to be there with you when
you open it?”

Charlotte gave her a small smile. “I’ll be all right.
Thank you, though.”

Sandra nodded and left.

Charlotte entered her room and closed the door.
Sitting upon her bed, she stared at Nick’s letter for several
minutes, building up the strength to read it. Finally, she opened
it.

November 27, 1942

Charlotte,

I want to wish you Happy Thanksgiving. I know you
won’t get this for a couple more weeks, but in this war, it’s
always nice to remember that somewhere out there, people are
celebrating. Perhaps you had Thanksgiving dinner with your family,
and you ate turkey, green beans, and biscuits, with gravy and
cranberry sauce on the side—and then for dessert, pumpkin pie. What
I wouldn’t do for a piece of pumpkin pie!

We didn’t have an authentic Thanksgiving dinner, but
we have a lot to be thankful for. I’m thankful for the friends I’ve
made over the past few months, even those I’ve lost. I’m thankful
to be alive and not badly injured (sunburns don’t count in the
grand scheme of things). Most of all, I’m thankful for you and all
your support. I just received your first letter, and I was beyond
ecstatic. Nothing could dampen my mood yesterday. John said I
must’ve been the happiest son of a bitch in this country. But
that’s what you do to me, Charlotte—you make me the happiest man
alive.

I love you more than words can describe. I look
forward to your next letter.

Love,

Nick

Charlotte collapsed onto the bed as sobs retched from
her throat, shaking her entire body. Nick’s letter about his life
and how much he was grateful for broke her heart. When he composed
that letter, he had no idea what would soon come.

***

O
n Monday, Natalie came
back from her last exam holding a telegram. “John’s alive! He sent
me a wire to let me know he’s all right.”

Charlotte managed a small smile. “I got another
letter.”

Natalie frowned. “From Nick again? Have you opened
it?”

“No. Though I guess now is as good a time as
any.”

Charlotte picked up the envelope and scanned its
contents.

December 1, 1942

Dearest Charlotte,

Can you believe it’s been almost a year since our
engagement? It doesn’t seem like that long ago I drove you to the
Mall and you kept rambling on about Paris. I was so nervous, you
wouldn’t believe. I was pretty sure you’d accept my proposal, but I
was so afraid something would happen to ruin the moment.
Thankfully, you said yes. It was one of the best nights of my
entire life.

Sometimes, when I’m trying to sleep, I wonder how we
would have turned out had Pearl Harbor not happened. Assuming
nothing else occurred that would pull the U.S. into the war, we’d
be together. You’d have set a wedding date in the spring or the
summer, and by now, we’d be married. You’d be at home, and I’d be
in law school.

But I guess there’s no use in going over the
what-ifs. These are the cards we’ve been dealt. I must go. I’ll
write you again soon.

Love,

Nick

Charlotte folded the letter and slid it back into the
envelope. She stood from the bed and removed a round hat box from
her wardrobe. Inside, Nick’s letters were bundled together with a
satin ribbon. The story of their love. She still loved Nick, but he
was gone, and her heart had perished with him. Now the letters were
painful reminders of what she had lost, something she could never
reclaim.

She untied the ribbon. She grabbed the most recent
letter from Nick and tore it in two. And then she tore it
again . . . and again . . . and again
until it resembled confetti. She threw the bits of paper onto the
floor and reached into the box to continue.

Natalie stole the box from her. “Don’t do this.
You’ll regret it.”

“Why would I regret it? He’s not coming back.”

Natalie sighed. “I understand why you’d want to
destroy them, but you’ll wish you hadn’t. They’re an important part
of your life.”

Charlotte snatched the box back from Natalie. “You
understand? What do you understand? You have absolutely no idea
what I’m going through! John’s alive, and Nick is dead! You have no
right to say you understand anything!”

Natalie slapped Charlotte across her cheek.
Charlotte’s eyes widened and she brought one hand to her face.

Natalie used that moment to steal the box away.
“You’ll thank me for this one day.” She marched out of the room and
slammed the door behind her.

Natalie didn’t return until late that night when
Charlotte was already in bed, pretending to be asleep. She said
nothing and stared at the ceiling as Natalie prepared for bed. Even
though it was unfair, Charlotte resented her. The man Natalie loved
was alive. The man Charlotte loved no longer existed except in her
memories.

***

C
harlotte slept late into
Tuesday morning. When she awoke, Natalie was packing her suitcase.
The fall semester had ended, and she’d return to her family in
Grand Rapids for the holidays.

Charlotte sat up and stretched her arms.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Natalie said. “My train
leaves in a couple hours and I didn’t want to leave without saying
good-bye. Do you want to grab some lunch with me before I go to the
station?”