Beyond the Shadow of War (29 page)

“Sit on what?”

He smiled again. “Sorry. Again. Sit on it‌—‌don’t do anything or say anything about it yet.”

“But why? If we’re on the list, why not
tell us so we can get ready?”

“With all the protests and complaints over the past few months, he’s afraid those not yet on the list will cause more problems. Obviously, we can’t put every war bride on the first ships to sail. We hope to avoid any more incidents with all you ladies shouting at us from the street.”

Anya leaned back in her chair, unable to stop her smile. “Then why have you told me? Why risk it?”

Phillip laced his fingers behind his neck and stretched. When he faced her again, he looked up with a sheepish expression. “I shouldn’t tell you why.”

“No, you must.” She sat up, resting her elbows on the table. “Either tell me, or I shall march right over to that microphone and announce it throughout the entire building.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll tell you.” He rubbed his hand across his chin and scratched the day’s whiskers on his neck. “The thing is, this morning I was told I won’t be able to go home for Christmas. I haven’t had a leave since the war ended, and I was supposed to have two full weeks off to go home.”

“But that’s not fair. Why can’t you go?”

“My CO had a family emergency back home, so he goes, and I stay. Simple as that.”

“I hope it was something truly serious.”

A slight grimace waved over his face. “Well, yes, it was. His father was killed in a hunting accident yesterday.”

Anya mirrored his grimace. “Sorry. That was horrible of me to say.”

“It’s all right. I had the same thought myself before he told me.”

“So your Christmas leave was cancelled? That’s why you told me we’re on the list? I don’t understand.”

“No, it’s more selfish than that, if you must know. I was hoping …” He lifted his shoulders then shrugged. “I was thinking I might share this good news with the four of you in exchange for an invitation for Christmas dinner.” Another shrug. “There. Now you know.”

Anya laughed softly. Until that moment, she’d never noticed his good looks before. To her, he was just the man at the American embassy who’d been kind to her that first day, promising to put her name on the all-important list for transport‌—‌

Something fluttered through her heart as a thought suddenly occurred to her. Was Lieutenant Powell another answer to Betty’s prayers? Had God orchestrated for Anya to be in his queue that first day at the embassy? Had He used Phillip to “open the doors” to bring Anya home to America? Was that possible? Had God also placed him here that night Sybil was working when Anya called to tell her Kate was in labor? Had it been more than a mere coincidence that he had a vehicle and offered to help take Kate to hospital in time to have her baby?

Another strange flutter played with her heart as she realized
none
of that could have been pure coincidence.

As her heart accepted the truth, she found herself still staring at him. She’d never noticed the kindness in his blue eyes, or the laugh lines gathered beside them. Never noticed a smile so genuine, its mere curve put her at ease.

“Well?”

She blinked. “Well what?”

“I told you my dirty little secret. Anything you’d like to say in return?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry, Phillip. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Liar.
“Yes, of course, you can come. We would love to have you join us on Christmas. It would be such an honor, especially now that you’ve given us something to celebrate.”

He chuckled. “You mean besides the birth of Christ?”

“Well, yes, besides the birth of Christ. To finally know we’re going to America soon? I cannot think of anything that would make us all happier.”

31

Christmas Eve, 1945

Anya placed another unlit candle on an upper bough of the spruce fir, then stood back for a better view of their decorated tree. Satisfied, she glanced over her shoulder as Joss cooed happily in her mother’s arms.

Kate smiled. “Well then, Auntie Anya, Joss just told me you’ve done a masterful job decorating our lovely tree.”

“Did she?” Anya knelt beside the rocker and gently tickled the baby under her chin, eliciting a perfect giggle. “Kate, have you ever wondered how a child learns to laugh?”

“No, I suppose I haven’t. You?”

Joss curled her fingers around one of Anya’s and pulled it toward her mouth.

“Not until now. I’m fascinated how quickly she’s learning everything. Even this‌—‌how did she know to reach out for my finger like that?”

“I have no idea. As for pulling it toward her mouth? I’m fairly confident this little one has a bottomless pit in that adorable tummy of hers. She’d chomp down on your finger if she had so much as a single tooth.”

Anya stood, her finger still the object of the baby’s attention. “There now, Joss. I must insist you give me back my finger so that I can finish decorating our tree.”

“It’s beautiful, Anya. Who could have known we’d have such a pretty tree with all the rationing still trying to spoil our fun?”

“We must thank Gigi for that, I suppose.” Anya adjusted one of the paper snowflakes she’d made then adjusted it again. “I’m beginning to think her Paul is made of money.”

“Let’s just
hope
it’s from him,” Kate murmured.

Sybil waddled into the drawing room. “Hope what’s from whom?”

“Never mind,” Kate said. “I was being unkind, and here it is on Christmas Eve.”

“You? Unkind?” Sybil lowered herself onto the sofa then used her apron to fan herself. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Anya took a seat beside her. “How are you feeling? You look a bit flushed.”

“I’m fine, but it’s terribly warm in here, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” Kate said. “But when I was expecting, I always felt like a furnace was roaring inside me.”

“Dreadful,” Sybil groaned, then leaned back and closed her eyes. “If this keeps up, I may walk outside and lie face-down in the snow.”

“Why don’t you rest awhile?” Anya said.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing. I just don’t want to miss anything.”

Kate closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Isn’t it wonderful, the aroma of a turkey roasting in the oven? We must remember to thank Phillip for providing it. Especially since rationing is so much worse now that the war is over. “Without it, we might have been stuck with Lord Woolton’s Pie or a plateful of floddies.”

“Floddies?” Anya asked.

“You know, those shredded potatoes we fry like little pancakes.”

“Oh, yes. Now I remember.”

“And don’t forget the extra sugar Phillip gave us,” Sybil continued. “How else would we have made a proper pudding?”

When the doorbell rang, Anya headed for the entry hall. “That must be Phillip. He’s early, but we can put him to work in the kitchen.” When she opened the door, she found their landlord stomping snow off his boots and carrying a stack of boxes.

“Hello, Mr. Grafton.”

“Hello, hello, Mrs. McClain. We must have had a substitute postman on the route yesterday. He left these parcels on my porch next door, but they belong to you ladies. Didn’t discover them until late last night, if you must know.”

“Please, come in. And thank you for bringing them by.”

“No problem, but I can’t stay. Grandchildren are on their way over. Just dropping these off.” He set them on the table next to the door. “Oh, and a few letters here on top.” He removed his cap and leaned into the drawing room. “Right, then. Merry Christmas, ladies.”

“Merry Christmas to you as well.”

“Thank you for bringing the parcels, Mr. Grafton,” Kate added.

Anya started to close the door after he left when she saw Phillip stepping out of his auto with an armload of gifts.

“Hello, Phillip. Do you need some help?”

“No, they’re lighter than they look.”

As he walked up the steps, Anya asked, “What’s all this?”

A mischievous smile warmed his face. “I ran into St. Nicholas, and he asked if I’d drop these by.”

“Did he, now?”

“Yes. I’m simply doing the old coot a favor.”

“I’m sure you are. Come in where it’s warm.”

The girls made a fuss over the lieutenant as he joined them, welcoming him to their home. After setting his packages under the tree, he pulled off his gloves and overcoat.

“Let me take those for you,” Anya said. “I’ll hang them on the hall tree. Would you like something to drink?”

“Not just yet, thank you.”

“How are you, Phillip?” Sybil asked.

“I’m fine, thanks. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you all allowing me to come over today. Especially since I invited myself.”

“We’re pleased to have you,” Kate said. “Nice to have a man in the house for a change.”

“Not to mention that heavenly turkey roasting in the oven,” Sybil added. “We’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” He leaned over the baby, gently tapping her button nose. “Just look at you, Miss Jocelyn. Why, you’re as beautiful as your mother.”

“Don’t you be flirting with her, Lieutenant,” Kate teased. “Not for another eighteen years or so.”

“Point taken.” He turned and took a seat beside Sybil. “And how’s our next expectant mother feeling today?”

“Quite fat and terribly hot, if you must know,” she said, still fanning herself.

“Nonsense. You look lovelier than ever. When is your baby due?”

She patted her rounded stomach. “Early February, and I’ll thank you to make absolutely sure I’m in New York by then.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Oh Phillip, we’re so grateful for the news you shared with Anya about our names being on that list,” Kate said. “Any dates set for our departure?”

“Nothing yet, but if I had to guess, I’d say sometime around the last week in January.”

Kate beamed. “That’s wonderful! We’ll start a countdown as of today, won’t we girls?”

Phillip raised his palms. “Now, I said it was just a guess, so don’t come hunting me down if it’s a week or two later.”

“Oh, but we will.” Sybil patted her stomach again. “I’ve got a countdown of my own here, remember?”

Just then, Joss cackled a bit of a laugh that ended in a prolonged coo.

“That’s right, Joss, you tell him,” Sybil teased.

“Listen to that, will you?” he said. “She’s not only beautiful, but quite the entertainer as well.”

“Would you like to hold her?” Kate asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Phillip stood and pulled off his uniform jacket.

Kate placed Joss in his arms.

“Now, if you ladies will excuse me, Miss Jocelyn and I need to have a little chat.” He slowly made his way over to the Christmas tree and chatted quietly with her.

Just then, the front door flew open. “I’m home! I’m home!”

Gigi rounded the corner, holding up two bulging cloth bags. “And I’ve got mistletoe and lots and lots of wine, so let the Christmas cheer commence!”

Anya glanced at Sybil, who rolled her eyes. They hadn’t seen her since the day before, and wondered where she’d been.

The afternoon passed with a curious mix of conversation, laughter, and carols playing on the phonograph. With rationing tighter than ever, theirs was not as festive a table as hoped, but with the turkey Phillip provided and some scrimping and saving of ration coupons, they were able to make do. They served the roasted turkey with a tasty stuffing, roasted potatoes and carrots, and for dessert, a savory plum pudding.

After dinner, they settled back in the drawing room with hot cups of tea. Gigi uncorked another bottle of wine, pouring one for herself and another for Phillip. Joss slept peacefully in the cradle beside her mother. They lit the candles on the tree and put another Christmas record on the phonograph.

“Our first Christmas after the war.” Sybil sighed. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“After the Blitz, I wondered if we’d ever live to see another one,” Kate said. “And yet, here we are.”

“Thank God for that,” Gigi added. “No more blackout curtains, no more nights crammed in the shelters.”

“No more bombs whizzing overhead,” Kate said.

Gigi shivered. “No more of those creepy barrage balloons bouncing around us.”

“Remember how awful Christmas was last year?” Sybil said. “We were so sure the war would have ended after D-Day, and when it still wasn’t by Christmas, we were all so depressed.”

“Yes, well, enough of all that.” Gigi raised her glass. “It’s over, and now we can all look forward to happier days ahead in America!”

“Here here!” they cheered as Gigi tapped her glass against Phillip’s.

“Anya, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Kate said. “What is Christmas like in Holland?”

“We actually celebrate Sinterklaas on the fifth of December.”

“You should have told us,” Gigi teased. “We could have celebrated all month long.”

“How do you celebrate this Sinter‌—‌”

“Sinterklaas,” Anya said. “We always made gifts for each other. Sometimes thoughtful gifts, but most often something silly. You have to write a poem for each person, and they have to read it aloud before opening their gift.”

“What a delightful tradition,” Sybil said. “What was the funniest gift you remember receiving?”

“That’s an easy one. I used to be such a pest to my brother Hans. Whenever he would ask a favor of me, I would say, ‘When pigs fly!’ and of course, never do what he asked. So the last time … the last time we celebrated Sinterklaas as a family, Hans wrote a clever poem about me flying away on a pig with wings.”

As her friends chuckled, Anya used the moment to steady her emotions.

“So he gave you a
pig
?” Gigi asked, rendering more laughter.

“Yes, but not a live one. He carved a little pig with wings.” She cleared her throat, trying so hard to keep smiling. “I felt awful, of course, because I’d always been such a terrible nuisance to him, and here was his gift, so kind and thoughtful.”

Another deep breath. “And when I returned to my home after the war ended, I found that little carved pig with wings amidst the debris. I couldn’t believe it, because our home had been ransacked by the Germans. One of its wings was broken, but I was so happy to find it. In fact, that was the same day Danny came back for me. It’s strange how often I think of that little pig.”

“Oh Anya, that’s such a sweet memory,” Sybil said.

Gigi huffed as she poured herself another glass of wine. “Oh, now, let’s not all sit around getting weepy and sad. What about you, Phillip? What is Christmas like in America?”

“Similar to yours, I think. We decorate trees in our homes. We exchange gifts and‌—‌”

“The gifts!” Gigi jumped up, set her glass on the table, then knelt before the tree aglow with candles. “Enough of all these melancholy strolls down memory lane. Let’s open our gifts!”