Captivated (5 page)

"Of course, take care Mrs. Metcalf."

Mrs. Metcalf smiled in return then settled back in her chair to enjoy the view of her garden. Lilli returned to the kitchen and cleaned up the mess Mrs. Metcalf had made then went to change in the small downstairs bathroom. She wiggled out of the mud crusted dungarees and pulled off the still clean blue blouse. Her dress was hanging neatly on the hook of the bathroom door, fresh and unwrinkled. Lilli didn't dare go home in her dirty garden clothes, knowing what her mothers reaction would be, nothing seemed to escape her notice.

Once dressed, Lilli slipped out of the front door entering again into the warm sunshine. Mrs. Metalf only lived three blocks from her own home, so the walk was short but enjoyable. The fresh smell of newly cut grass pulled a smile from her lips, reveling in the classic outdoor aroma. Neighbors waved as she passed, she stopped to talk to a few, asking about their families, telling them about her own. All too soon she came upon her own house, the white fence and matching siding gleaming under the sunshine. She stopped at the pale blue mailbox and found, amongst letters to her parents, a letter from Joe.

A heavy sigh pushed up from her lungs, dreading what she would find inside, and what she knew her response would be. Having no experience with men, she had never had to end a relationship , her only relief was that she would be able to do so with pen and paper. She settled on the rocking chair on the shaded porch and broke the seal of the crumpled, yellow envelope. Her throat constricted as she gasped upon seeing three pages inside, crammed writing covering every inch.

May 17, 1943

Dear Lilli,

I can't even begin to describe the comfort your last letter brought me. I smelled the syrup stain for at least an hour, and even now, it's under my pillow so I can smell the faint sweetness of it while I'm sleeping. I wake up thinking my mother is making pancakes downstairs. You probably find me ridiculous, but you have no idea how disgusting the food is here. I've not had anything with sugar since my last meal in the States, they don't even give us sugar for our coffee. I don't mean to complain, in fact, I'm not sure this paragraph had any purpose at all, other than to say I appreciated your letter, which I could have said simply in one sentence.

I wanted to try and answer all of your questions, but forgive me if I've missed one or two. You asked first about my family. I am the eldest of four and am the only boy. I have spent most of my time pre-war protecting my three sisters. Sarah, is next in age after me, she is 21 and a homebody. The only one of us that doesn't love the outdoors, she would much rather be curled up on a couch with an afghan wrapped around her, than outside enjoying the fresh air. Katie is next at 19 and she is my partner in crime. We are always teasing and making fun, or playing around outside. Kate and I have the sense of humor, my mother jokes sometimes that we must share a brain. Annie is the baby at only 16, apparently she is just learning how to drive. She of course, thinks she's a natural, but Kate tells the story entirely different.

Then of course there are my parents. I don't think I could have asked for a better pair to raise me and my sisters. Mom is caring and tender, yet quick to speak her mind. I can't tell you how many times she told me to go wash up because she could see the dirt in my hair, or how often she told me I had acted like a fool in any number of situations. At times, it was annoying to hear her opinion so bluntly, but I always end up being thankful for her honesty. Dad is another creature entirely. Most of the time he's quiet, then suddenly he'll sneak in a zinger and have the whole family clutching their sides.

I think that's what I miss most about being here, the laughter. It's not that the men here don't laugh, it's just a different kind of laughter. Perhaps it's the reason for their laughter that makes it less appealing. Men are amused by entirely different things than the members of my innocent family. But I'll not go any further with that statement.

I am from a small town in Virginia, not too far from the ocean, maybe an hour by train. Actually, I live more outside the small town. My family owns a fruit orchard, five acres of trees which produce the most wonderful variety of fruit. We have a small vegetable garden for our own use and even keep a few animals. 2 cows, 10 hens and 6 horses, one for every member of the family. My horse is Apollo, I got him while we were learning about Greek gods in school, I don't know why, out of all the gods, I picked the one who drives the sun, but, what's done is done. I'm praying that everything is intact when I return home. Kate says that business has been good these days, the war has created more demand for our crops.

Your friend Viv sounds like quite a character! I hope I get to meet her someday when all this ends. I hate to think about you sitting beside your radio set at night, worrying. It is true that the war is difficult and that soldiers are dying in battle, but we all know why we're fighting. I am constantly reminded of the horrors taking place across the German border. We all have to believe that good will conquer evil.

Before I say goodbye, let me settle you on one thing. You are the only girl I am writing to, the only girl I think about and the only girl I'm coming home to. Your letters have captivated me, and your questions should not have gone unanswered so long.

Lilli imagined that her face would have been entertainment to anyone, had they been watching her read the letter. At the sight of the length, her brows furrowed in perplexity, then softened at the description of his family. His explanation of the orchard taunted her lips to curl in a smile and worry passed over her gentle features when he spoke of the war. She nibbled the corner of her bottom lip as he pronounced intentions toward her, then returned to confusion upon finishing it all. His lack of signature caused her to think there was more, but then it became endearing as it felt like less of a letter, and more of a conversation. Perhaps she would continue writing to him after all, he suddenly seemed to care, and so did she.

Chapter 3

June 26, 1943

Dear Joe,

I just received your letter and I don't even know where to begin! It was completely unexpected! So unexpected in fact, that before opening it I was quite set on asking you to stop writing. I hope you don't think ill of me for such a plan, but you must admit this last letter was quite a bit different from the rest. I felt as if we were in the park, unfolding our life stories, and I feel like I have a better sense of who you are now than I did before, so thank you.

Your family sounds like a great deal of fun. Your sister Kate is my age. I'm not sure if you knew that about me, I'm 19 years old as well. I don't know how old you are either, you declared yourself older than Sarah, so my guess is that you're 23, am I right? I must say I am a bit envious of your family. I am an only child and my parents, especially my mother, are quite proper. Laughter isn't exactly a common occurrence in our house. Mother frowns on anything that impedes self control, even in the smallest way.

She has always been controlling, insisted that I go to an all girls school to complete my education. We are very different she and I, I sometimes find it hard to believe that we're related at all. My father is a great deal easier in his approach to me. He pleads my case to Mother, but she very seldom listens to him. We share secret glances at the dinner table, commenting silently on the newest ridiculous statement she's made. It's not that I don't' love her, I do, and I'm grateful for all she's done for me, well most of it. But I cherish my time out of the house, out from under her scrutiny. It seems that no matter what I do, I am always lacking in some way.

Enough about that, tell me Joe, do you want to continue in your father's footsteps when the time comes, or do you wish to do something else with your life? I know very well that parents dreams do not always match your own. Thank you for being kind enough to answer all of my questions in your last letter, it makes writing to you so much easier. You can feel free to ask me anything you want.

I enclosed a pressed cherry blossom. I know you don't usually send boys flowers, at least, I don't think you do, but I thought since you enjoyed the smell of the syrup so much, I would send you another smell. I thought that maybe you had cherry trees in your orchard, and that this flower might remind you of home. In truth, I have no idea if a cherry blossom smells anything like an actual cherry tree, but at the thought that it might, I wanted you to have it. Please write again soon!

Affectionately,

Lilli

Sam had taken the dried flower out of the envelope with the letter, and had been smelling it while reading. He was so consumed with the letter, and scent that he didn't hear the flap rustling loudly behind him. Before he could do anything, the second page of her letter was ripped from his hands, inflicting a large paper cut across his left palm. He spun on his bed to find Wes grinning mischievously.

"What on earth!" Sam yelped, spinning on his bed. "You gave me a paper cut!"

"Oh, sorry man, just wanted to see what had so much of your attention. A letter from your sister? No, not the right handwriting." His eyebrow raised in confusion, trying to solve the mystery of the unknown handwriting, he turned the page over finding Lilli's delicate signature. "Lilli, who's Lilli? Do you know a person named Lilli? And, since when have you been writing to a girl? You haven't been, and where could you meet one now? We're not exactly in Virginia here, the place is crawling with men!" He snatched the other page from Sam, his eyes immediately connecting with
Dear Joe
. Sam could see the shock on his face, and winced.

"Didn't you write all of Joe's girls letters more than a month ago? Why would she write a letter after finding out that he's dead?"

Sam sat silently on the bed, waiting for Wes to figure out exactly what he had done, which he figured would only take another minute. Wes' eyes ticked down the page of perfect handwriting, his eyes falling on something that gave it all away. Sam knew immediately that he had found the paragraph that talked about his own sisters.

"Joe doesn't have sisters, why is she writing to Joe about your sisters?" Wes asked, falling onto his bed. "And, Joe's family has a farm, not an orchard, your family has an orchard." Sam looked at Wes guiltily, unable to admit his own actions.

"Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did." Wes' gazed pierced through Sam, making his guilt more evident. "You wrote a letter to one of the girls Joe was writing?"

"Yea..."

"What on earth would possess you to do such a thing?"

"Her letters, they were so...so, incredible."

"Has being here made you stupid?" Wes asked, obviously unable to believe Sam's blunder.

"No, it would have been stupid not to write her."

"You are going to have to explain, because it sounds to me that what you did was pretty stupid. You wrote a letter, to a girl, who was writing to your best friend, who has already met your best friend, who is now dead. You write the letter, as Joe, so she still thinks she's writing to him. You signed Joe's name at the end, pretending to be him. But, when the war is over, and you go to meet this girl, which you will obviously do seeing as you like her so much, she's going to be expecting Joe, and guess what, you don't look a thing like him!" Wes laughed.

"First of all, I didn't sign my name as Joe, I just didn't sign it at all, so technically, she assumed that I was still Joe."

"As she naturally would! Since you didn't mention your own name! Or his death!"

"And second of all I didn't pretend to be Joe in the letter, I was myself, I told her about my family, my life and my opinions."

"Ok, so, when you get to the dock the day we get home, you're going to tell her that you never lied to her, that she just
assumed
too much, and you think that's going to make things better for her?"