The Homecoming (28 page)

“You’d never have been able to make something like this back in England,” Shawn said to Katherine.

“It’s like we’re not even rationing here compared to what they have over there,” she said.

“Speaking of
over there
,” Shawn’s dad said. “Any idea when you’re going back?”

“I’m hoping I won’t have to,” Shawn said. “We’ve pretty much shut down the V-1 attacks on London. Our boys have retaken Paris, and they’re not far from pushing the Germans out of France and Belgium. Rumors are beginning to spread that we might have this thing wrapped up by Christmas. I’m hoping they’re going to reassign me somewhere back here.”

“Really?” Katherine asked. “Will they put you back on the War Bond tour?”

“Can I have some more bread?” Patrick asked. Mrs. Fortini passed him the basket.

“I think my celebrity days are over,” said Shawn. “They’ve got plenty of heroes to pick from with far better stories to tell than mine.”

“I don’t believe that,” his father said. “They ever say anything more about your medal?”

A startled look came over Shawn’s face. “I forgot all about it.” He stood up.

“Where you going, Daddy?”

“They already gave me the medal, three weeks ago. C’mon, Patrick, I’ll show it to you.”

“Can’t we all see it?” Katherine asked.

“I’ll bring it downstairs. I didn’t get the Medal of Honor, though; they gave me the next one down, the Distinguished Service Cross.”

“The next one down,” Mrs. Fortini said. “What a thing to call it. You mean the second-highest medal of all the medals.”

“Okay,” Shawn said, “you could say that.”

Shawn and Patrick went upstairs. Patrick came down holding the medal, a beautifully crafted cross of gold with an eagle in the center, suspended from a mostly blue ribbon, outlined in red and white stripes. It was set in a nice box like fine jewelry. “Look, Miss Townsend, it’s kind of like the cross I made Daddy.” He brought it to the table and sat down.

“I like your cross better,” Shawn said.

“Really?”

“Really. And one day, when you’re a little older, I’ll give you mine.”

Patrick passed the medal to Katherine. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. And here’s a picture a friend took when General Doolittle pinned it on me.”

“Jimmy Doolittle?” his father asked. “The guy that flew that big mission to Tokyo two years ago?”

“That’s him,” said Shawn. “He’s in charge of the whole Eighth Air Force in Europe now.”

After Mrs. Fortini saw both the medal and the photo, she got up from the table. “I’m gonna put the coffee on and get dessert ready,” she said.

Instantly Katherine got up. “Let me help you.”

“You stay put and visit,” said Mrs. Fortini.

So they did. Over the next few hours they caught up on each other’s lives, moving to the living room after dessert. It was all very pleasant, and the time flew by. Shawn announced he was getting sleepy and noticed Patrick was barely awake. “And we should probably get out of Dad’s bedroom here so he can turn in,” Shawn said, looking at his father’s bed still occupying the far corner.

As Katherine and Mrs. Fortini got up to leave, there was just one thing that bothered Katherine about the evening. And it bothered her a lot. Shawn never once called her by her first name, and twice referred to her as Miss Townsend.

So we’re back to that, she thought.

Forty-one

May 2, 1945
(7 months later)

The war didn’t end by Christmas, as so many people thought it would. Instead, the Christmas season of 1944 ushered in perhaps the worst and bloodiest battle of the entire war. It came to be known as the Battle of the Bulge. Over nineteen thousand Americans died in six weeks of vicious fighting during one of the coldest winters in Europe in the last fifty years.

But the Allies did win the Battle, and it really did seem like the war in Europe was finally wrapping up. All of France, Belgium, and the Netherlands had been liberated. The rug under Hitler’s feet was getting smaller and smaller; most of Nazi Germany itself was now under Allied control. The newspapers were reporting that Berlin was the only area still in Nazi hands, but even now it was surrounded and under attack by the Russians.

Shawn, thankfully, had missed out on all this action. He did get reassigned in the States after his leave in September. He’d become a test pilot for Grumman airplanes. Grumman had a huge factory on Long Island, New York. For Shawn, this was a dream assignment. Almost every day he got to fly fighter planes, putting them through their paces to make sure they were ready to be shipped overseas. And the best part . . . no one was shooting at him.

Shawn could come home every few weekends for a visit. Things on the home front seemed to be going smoothly. Patrick was doing well in school, had made a number of good friends in the neighborhood. Katherine, of course, was doing a wonderful job taking care of him and the house. His father’s health seemed to be holding steady all this time. He never did move back upstairs. “No point in it now,” he’d said. “Got a bathroom, the radio, my newspaper, and cigars . . . what do I care about going upstairs?”

Shawn smiled as he thought about his dad, how much he had changed over the last year and a half. He really looked forward to seeing him now on these trips home. Shawn picked up his duffel bag and briefcase; he was all packed and ready for the train ride from Long Island back home. He walked down the barracks hallway, noticing at the end the sad picture of FDR. Someone had taped black ribbon across the top.

He had just died a couple of weeks ago in Warm Springs, Georgia, stunning the entire nation. “Such a shame,” Shawn’s dad said the day after, when they’d talked about it on the telephone. “Leads us through the Depression, gets us all the way through the war, then up and dies before he can see the finish line.”

Shawn had to admit, he’d never even heard of the man who’d taken his place. It felt odd speaking of President Harry Truman as the new commander-in-chief. Shawn was just about to head out the door to catch the bus to the train station when he bumped into a navy test pilot named George Ames heading into the building. His face was all lit up.

“Shawn, you see this?” Ames handed Shawn a newspaper. “He’s dead. It’s official. Shot himself or took poison or something.”

Shawn looked down at two huge black words, the biggest headline he ever saw: “Hitler Dead!”

“It says he’s been dead for two days now,” said Ames. “Can you believe it?”

“This mean the war’s over?” Shawn asked.

“The article says no, but it’s got to be ending soon. How they gonna fight with Hitler dead? You heading out somewhere?”

“Yeah, gonna see the family for the weekend again. You staying put?”

“My family’s in Wisconsin. Maybe I’ll head in to the city over the weekend, catch the Yanks playing. Oh here, I almost forgot. This is for you. That redhead in the front office said to get it to you.” He handed Shawn a Western Union telegram.

“Thanks.” Shawn dropped his bags just outside and quickly opened it. His heart began to race. Who would be sending him a telegram? As he started to read the words, he felt like he was going to be sick.

MAJOR COLINS - PLEASE CALL HOME IMMEDIATELY
YOUR FATHER’S HEART TROUBLE
DR MATTHEWS SAID TO CONTACT YOU
- MISS TOWNSEND -

Katherine had just gotten Patrick situated at a friend’s house around the corner from Mrs. Fortini’s. Since the heart attack, they had been taking turns, one sitting with Mr. Collins and the other watching Patrick. Mrs. Fortini was with him now. Dr. Matthews said he would stop by the house again on his way home from the hospital. Collins had been insistent; he did not want to be put in the hospital. He was sure his time was up, and he wanted to die at home.

They had both asked him to please stop talking that way, but, when they were alone, they thought the same thing. It seemed only a matter of days. Dr. Matthews had all but said this when he’d asked her to contact Shawn. She looked at her watch. Mrs. Fortini would be coming back from next door in about ten minutes. Katherine realized she’d better call Al—Captain Al—and let him know what had happened, and that she couldn’t meet him tonight as expected.

For the last four months Captain Albert Baker had been escorting her every other Friday night to dinner and a movie, unless it happened to be a weekend Shawn was coming home. Shawn’s visits came at irregular intervals, and she hadn’t told him yet about Al. Only Mrs. Fortini knew.

Katherine had never called her times with Al “dates.” She knew Al did, and that was okay. She knew he probably even referred to her as his girlfriend when talking with his folks across the river in Jersey. That was where Al lived. Three weeks after she and Patrick had flown back to the States, Al got what soldiers referred to as a “million dollar wound,” one bad enough to send you home but not bad enough to ruin your life. He’d taken some shrapnel in the leg flying a mission over Belgium. After a few months in a hospital in England, he had been medically discharged. Except for a slight limp, you’d never know.

Shortly after, he began pursuing Katherine again. Katherine had told him she wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. “Okay,” Al had said. “We won’t get serious.” But over the last month or so, it seemed like he was getting more serious about her. She had grown fonder of him and really did enjoy his company. But so far, not enough to make their relationship public knowledge.

“Hello?”

“Al, this is Katherine.”

“Hey, Kath. You getting excited about tonight?”

“I’m sorry, Al, that’s why I’m calling. I can’t make it.”

“What? I just went out and bought a new shirt.”

“I’ll have to see it next time.”

“I won’t be able to give you your present.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What happened?”

“It’s actually pretty serious. Mr. Collins had a heart attack yesterday.”

“The old man? That’s too bad. Did he die?”

“No, he’s holding on, but it doesn’t look good. I’m really worried about him.”

“Then let me come over and cheer you up.”

“No, Al. It really would be better if we rescheduled. Me and Mrs. Fortini are taking turns staying with him. When it’s not my turn, I need to take care of Patrick.” She could hear him sighing through the phone. “What was playing, anyway?” she asked.

“
Eve Knew Her Apples
,” he said. “A comedy starring Ann Miller. Supposed to be a riot.”

“Why don’t you go see it?” she asked.

“Aww, it won’t be the same without you.”

“I’m really sorry, Al, but duty calls.”

“You would have really liked me in my new shirt.”

Katherine laughed. “I’m sure I would. But I’ll see it next time.”

“Next time . . . I like the sound of that. Speaking of next time, have you given any thought to what I said?”

Katherine knew this would come up. Al had asked her about it the last three times they’d talked. “I have . . . some.”

“I don’t wanna push you, Kath. But if we’re ever gonna get to know each other better, we need to spend a little more time than once every few weeks. I can’t move over there ’cause of the family business, but I talked with my dad. One of the secretaries gave her two weeks’ notice. I told him all about your last job, and he said he’d hire you just on my say-so. So what do you think?”

“I will definitely think about it and pray about it some more, Al. Well, I’ve gotta go. I’m really sorry for calling off tonight on such short notice.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m a big boy. Just do what you gotta do and we’ll pick it up next time.”

“Thanks.”

She could always count on Al, so easygoing. As she hung up, Mrs. Fortini walked in the front door. “Is that Al?” she asked.

Katherine looked at her.

“I can tell by that half-guilty look on your face. It was Al, wasn’t it?”

“I just called to cancel our . . .
time
.”

“Time?” Mrs. Fortini shook her head. She set her purse down on the chair. “He loves you, you know.”

“What?”

“Al, he loves you.”

“No, he doesn’t. We’re just good friends. How can you know that? You’ve never met him.”

“Katherine.”

“He’s very nice,” she said. “We’re just . . . getting to know each other better.”

“Did he ask you again about moving to New Jersey?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure I’m ready for something like that. How’s Mr. Collins?” Katherine asked, changing the subject.

“He’s sleeping, snoring like a buzz saw.”

“I’ll go sit with him,” said Katherine.

“He can’t be tired; I think he’s just weak. Hasn’t eaten a thing all day,” Mrs. Fortini said. “I put some soup in the icebox. If he wakes, you could heat it up, try to get him to take a few sips. I’ll fix something to eat and bring you over some. Is Patrick okay?”

“He’s around the corner, eating with Kevin. His mom said I could pick him up anytime before 8:30.” Katherine grabbed her purse.

“Shawn called,” said Mrs. Fortini. “He should be here in about an hour. Said after he got your telegram, he borrowed a car to get here faster.”

“I’m so glad,” Katherine said. “Mr. Collins will be so glad to see him.” She walked down the hall and gave Mrs. Fortini a hug. “See you in a little while.”

As she walked out to the porch, she thought about Shawn, about seeing him again, about how she felt about seeing him again. She didn’t know why he still made her so nervous. Months ago, she let herself think he might have some measure of affection for her. But it was time she faced the fact that it was all in her imagination.

He was kind to her, thoughtful and generous. He had always been very appreciative of the way she’d kept the house, the care she had given Patrick, and lately even her cooking. But really, he hadn’t paid her a single compliment on a personal level. Except that one time, when she wore that red dress at that fancy dinner downtown. But what was that . . . February of last year?

No, she had no reason to be nervous about Shawn. He was—it was time she faced it—simply Patrick’s father and a very nice man to work for. She looked at her watch. Shawn should be home in about fifty minutes.

And that thought made her nervous.