The Homecoming (22 page)

Shawn sat back and took a deep breath. “You do sound okay.”

“I am . . . now what are you and Robert cooking up?”

“Dad, what’s this about you not going home?”

“Miss Townsend tell you that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

Collins looked away. “I don’t feel ready to go home.”

“Dad . . . I talked with Dr. Matthews. He thinks you’d heal better at home, and he needs this bed back.”

“I’m just not ready.”

“I been thinking about this, Dad, the whole drive over. I think I know what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

“I just watched what’s bothering you.” Shawn said, almost in a whisper, pointing to the bathroom door with his head. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You can’t make it up the steps till you get that cast off. We only got one bathroom at the house, and it’s upstairs.”

“Son, I can’t be going in one of those stinking bedpans. Who am I gonna get to clean up after me? Miss Townsend . . . Mrs. Fortini? I can’t do it, Shawn. And where am I gonna sleep?” He looked away again.

“Dad, look at me.” Shawn waited a moment. “Dad.”

Collins faced his son but had the hardest time making eye contact.

“I understand, really I do. I’ve got it all worked out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve talked with Dr. Matthews and Robert, even made a few calls, one to your accountant then to a contractor. It’s all set up.”

“What is?”

“I’m going to spend a little bit of that money you’ve got stored away. Actually, what I’m doing will cost about the same as what you’re giving this hospital every week for this room. And the contractor said he can get right on it, have it done in a week, maybe less.”

“What are you talking about, Shawn?”

“I’m talking about getting you home, Dad, where you belong. I’m talking about you spending some time with Patrick. He misses you so much.”

“He say that?”

“Katherine said that’s all he talks about.”

“Really?”

“He said somebody promised to teach him how to carve things out of wood.”

Collins sighed. He’d forgotten all about that.

“So I’ve figured out a way to get you home. Just hear me out. The hospital is going to rent us a bed for you; we can put it right there in the living room. If we need to, we’ll buy it. I got a contractor who’s going to build a bathroom downstairs.”

“People don’t have bathrooms downstairs.”

“Well, we’re going to. He said he can put one right under the stairs. It won’t have a shower, but it will have a sink and toilet. And he’ll put all kinds of handles everywhere so you can keep your balance getting in and out. Robert said he could use some extra cash. So he’s going to come over once a day on his way home and clean you up, like he does here.”

“Really?”

“And we’ll make sure when he does, you got the house to yourself. Will that be enough to get you to come home?”

Collins couldn’t believe all the trouble Shawn had gone to for him. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll come home. I’m going to see Patrick tonight. Say I can tell him you’re coming home.”

“I guess you better tell him then.”

Shawn paced back and forth in front of the big bronze Eagle at Wanamaker’s, staring at the front doors by the Juniper Street entrance. He’d watched numerous couples come in, all dressed to the nines. They’d smile as they passed by then disappear up the elevators. The dinner was being held in a large ballroom on the ninth floor. Shawn had already been upstairs, confirming Lieutenant Winston had made room for his guests.

He had. The guy really was a wizard with details.

The celebrities had been arriving over the last twenty minutes from the Market Street entrance, to make room for their limousines. Unfortunately for Mrs. Fortini, Bing Crosby was not among them. But he knew she’d love this evening, from top to bottom. The Andrews Sisters were back. Comedian Jack Benny was supposed to make an appearance. He had been hilarious that afternoon. Hedy Lamarr and Bette Davis were still on the tour.

But Shawn just wanted to see Patrick. He looked up through the Grand Court atrium as the music from the band began to play, drifting down from the ninth floor. He looked again toward the Juniper Street entrance. There he was, coming in right behind a tall man in a black tuxedo and top hat.

“Daddy!” he yelled and ran hard until he jumped into Shawn’s arms.

“Look at you,” Shawn yelled as he spun him around. “All dressed up. Bow tie and everything.”

“We gonna eat here?”

“Yes, upstairs.” Shawn set Patrick down but still held his hand. He turned back toward the doors. Mrs. Fortini walked toward him, her eyes as bright as the chandeliers. She wore a shiny green dress and some kind of fur stole around her shoulders. “Look at you, Mrs. Fortini.”

She smiled and looked away shyly. “I’m just glad this old thing fit,” she said. She walked up and gave him a big hug.

“Where’s Miss Townsend?”

“She’s coming,” said Patrick. “She’s parking the car.”

“But there’s supposed to be valet parking,” Shawn said. “Aren’t they out there?”

“They are,” said Mrs. Fortini. “But Katherine didn’t know how much they charged.”

“They’re free,” he said. “Everything tonight is covered.”

“She’ll be right up,” said Mrs. Fortini. “She said not to wait for her.”

“She know it’s on the ninth floor?”

“Your message said the same floor as the Crystal Tea Room. She said that’s her new favorite place. C’mon, she’ll be fine. She’s a very bright girl.” They started walking toward the elevators.

Shawn put his hand on Mrs. Fortini’s shoulder. “Before we go up, I’ve got something for you.”

“For me?” she asked.

“You know Bing Crosby won’t be here tonight, right?”

She nodded. “That’s okay. I still can’t believe I get to go to something so fancy.”

“Well, here,” Shawn said. He pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to her.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

She did and pulled out an eight-by-ten glossy photograph of Bing Crosby smoking a pipe. “Shawn, it’s wonderful.” She read aloud what he’d written:

To Alessandra
,

So sorry I missed you
.
All the best, Bing Crosby

She giggled, or something similar, and pulled the picture close. “Shawn, thank you so much. I didn’t know you knew my first name.”

“I didn’t. Miss Townsend found it for me.”

Thirty-one

Shawn got Patrick and Mrs. Fortini situated at the table. The room looked fabulous. Big chandeliers, lush curtains, rich woodwork and trim, gorgeous mahogany pillars. Huge circular tables outlined the perimeter, clothed in fine linen and silverware actually made of silver. Each with a floral centerpiece dominated by roses and candles. Against the far wall a makeshift stage had been created, lined with American flags on flagpoles and, of course, the obligatory War Bond posters. The band was off to the right, playing soft tunes in the background. All about the room, men and women mingled, holding cocktails and exchanging compliments.

“Shawn, this is
so
beautiful,” said Mrs. Fortini. “Guess somebody used up all their rationing coupons on this.”

Shawn laughed. “The waiters are going to bring the salads first, I think. My aide said they’ll be accompanied by a cold shrimp cocktail.”

“I haven’t had shrimp in ages,” she said.

“Do I have to eat shrimp, Daddy?”

“No, Patrick. Tonight, you don’t have to eat anything you don’t want. Listen, I have to be gone a few minutes, just a few. There’s some people I have to meet. I’ll try to get it all done now so I can spend the rest of the time with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said.

Shawn looked toward the door. “I don’t see Miss Townsend.”

“She’ll be here,” said Mrs. Fortini. “You go do what you have to do.”

Shawn spotted Lieutenant Winston across the room and headed that way. He was laughing at something an elderly man had just said. Shawn recognized Winston’s fake laugh and decided he might appreciate the interruption. “Excuse me, Lieutenant,” he whispered.

“Oh, Major Collins. Duty calls, Mr. Evans. So nice to meet you.”

“Is this him, the major who’s been making all the headlines lately?” asked the man.

“The very same,” said Winston. He quickly introduced Shawn to Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Shawn spent a few moments making small talk, then Lieutenant Winston pulled him away. They had worked on this routine that afternoon. It was the lieutenant’s job to make sure Shawn saw everyone he needed to that night without getting stuck in long conversations.

“Lieutenant, do you know everyone I’m supposed to meet tonight?”

“Most of them, sir.”

“Could we get this out of the way upfront, instead of dragging it out all evening? I’d like to spend some time with my son if I could.”

“I think we could—hold on. Who is that?” Winston was instantly distracted, looking over Shawn’s shoulder. “My heavens, she is gorgeous.”

Shawn turned to see a beautiful actress in a stunning red dress who’d just come through the front door. Must be someone new; Shawn didn’t recognize her. He noticed several of the men in the room had turned to see her, some like Winston stopping conversations mid-sentence.

Wait a minute, he thought. It can’t be. He looked at her face more closely.

But it was.

It was Katherine . . . it was Miss Townsend.

The dinner for Shawn had been equal parts wonderful and unnerving.

It was wonderful to see Patrick, hear him go on the way kids do, jumping from one subject to the next, filling Shawn in on all he’d missed. The food had been wonderful. The entertainment, wonderful. Mrs. Fortini’s warmth and sense of humor, wonderful.

Being around Katherine—Miss Townsend—on the other hand . . .

He found her transformation unnerving. The way numerous men in the room kept staring at her, unnerving. The way Lieutenant Winston had suddenly decided to eat at their table, unnerving. The way he dominated her time and conversation, turning his considerable charm loose on her, unnerving. And it was unnerving that she didn’t seem to realize any of these things were even going on.

But perhaps the most unnerving thing of all was how much all this bothered him, to the point of distraction.

“Daddy?”

“Shawn,” Mrs. Fortini said. “Do you hear Patrick?”

Shawn looked, first to Mrs. Fortini then Patrick. “I’m sorry, what is it? Would you like some more cake?”

“I’m full,” said Patrick. “Miss Townsend keeps looking over here. I don’t think she wants to keep dancing.”

Mrs. Fortini chuckled. “Out of the mouth of babes.”

Shawn looked out on the dance floor, scanning the various couples until he saw Miss Townsend dancing with Lieutenant Winston. This was the third dance they had shared since the show ended.

“She looks happy to me,” Shawn said.

“Shawn, she does not,” said Mrs. Fortini. “Your lieutenant is making her uncomfortable. Although he’s quite a handsome young man, and a fabulous dancer, even I can see that.”

Of course he is, thought Shawn. “She kept saying yes when he asked her,” he said.

“Because he’s your friend.”

“He’s not my friend.”

“Well, she was saying yes because she thought he was and didn’t want to offend him.”

“She tell you that?”

“In a way.”

“Are you sure, Mrs. Fortini?” Shawn looked again, caught Katherine looking their way.

“I’m sure. Shawn, go out and rescue her.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“I can’t dance, Mrs. Fortini. Besides, it wouldn’t be right.”

“And why is that?”

“Because . . . she’s Patrick’s nanny.”

“Daddy, why are you talking that way to Mrs. Fortini? Are you mad?”

Shawn shook his head. “No, Patrick, I’m not mad. I’m sorry, Mrs. Fortini, I didn’t realize I was—”

“Apology accepted. Now go out and dance with Katherine. Do it because it’s the right thing to do, and because you are a gentleman, and she needs a gentleman right now.”

Shawn looked at Patrick, who smiled. He didn’t need to look at Mrs. Fortini. He sighed and got out of his seat then weaved his way through the dancing couples. He came up to them and tapped on Lieutenant Winston’s shoulder. “May I cut in?”

Winston looked stunned by the interruption but immediately said yes and backed away.

Shawn took her hands and tried to find the beat. “Mrs. Fortini said you needed rescuing.”

“Thank you. The lieutenant is very nice but—”

“You don’t need to explain. But I do. I am a terrible dancer. You may get hurt.”

Katherine laughed. She looked back toward their table. Lieutenant Winston had taken his seat again.

“You don’t have to dance with him,” Shawn said, “or even be nice to him. Not on my account.” In between words, Shawn counted off the dance steps in his head.

“Really?”

“Yes. In fact, my hunch is, if you’re not crystal clear, he will keep pursuing you all night.”

“But why?”

She really didn’t get it. “You’re wearing a very . . . attractive dress,” was all he thought to say.

“It’s the nicest dress I’ve ever owned. Thank you for buying it. I’ve got change, nine dollars. It’s in my purse.”

“Keep it, please.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“The store I bought it from had a sale. Too many red dresses left over from Valentine’s Day.”

“It looks . . . very nice on you.”

“Thank you, Major.”

They continued to dance another few moments in silence, Shawn counting the steps. It seemed like the song was ending. Yes, it was ending. Shawn was so relieved.

Relieved but still unnerved.

As he led Katherine back to the table, Shawn saw Patrick with Mrs. Fortini. As much as he’d miss him, Shawn decided it was a good thing the train was heading south for the next three months.

Thirty-two

May 15, 1944
The Pentagon
(Just over 3 months later)

Colonel Simmons dreaded this call, but he couldn’t ignore it any longer. His secretary, Abby, had gotten the gist of what this Air Force general wanted from the last two times he’d called. Simmons had told Abby many times she was in the wrong branch of the military. They ought to ship her overseas, get her interrogating Krauts and Japs. She’d get them spilling the beans.