The Homecoming (8 page)
Nothing Shawn said this morning had eased Patrick’s sadness. This was supposed to be the day Shawn drove Patrick to his first day at his new school. He had promised to be there when Patrick got home this afternoon to hear all about it. Instead, he was leaving him again, and he wouldn’t be home until well after Patrick’s bedtime. The best he could offer Patrick was to let him stay home another day and say they’d try again tomorrow. But would he be able to do that? The army could order him to do anything, go anywhere, for almost any length of time.
Shawn stared out the window. He didn’t notice that the scenes outside had stopped flashing by or that the click-clack sounds of the train wheels had ceased.
“Excuse me, Captain?”
“Huh?” Shawn looked up into the smiling face of a black Pullman porter.
“Sir, you did say Union Station was your stop.”
“Yes.”
“We’re here.”
Shawn looked around. Almost all the passengers in his car were already gone. “I’m sorry.”
“No problem, sir. We gonna be here for at least twenty minutes. You ever been to Washington?”
“No, I haven’t,” Shawn said as he got up. He grabbed his brief bag and slung his overcoat across his forearm.
“Then you in for a treat. Got the fanciest buildings I ever saw. And I travel all up and down the East Coast.” He started to walk down the narrow aisle.
“I’m supposed to meet someone, a driver. Any idea how I’m supposed to find him?”
The porter turned. “You just follow the crowd. Got two big halls to go through. You get to the second one, can’t miss it—got the biggest ceiling I ever saw and got all these big Roman soldier statues up on the walls, with shields guarding their privates—I expect your driver be somewhere in there, near the doors in the front or on the side to the right. That’s where all the cabbies come in. Folks mostly get picked up around there.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, make sure you stop and get your bags first.”
“This brief bag here’s all I’ve got. I’m not staying overnight.” “Can I get that for you?”
Shawn smiled. “No, you don’t have to do that. You’ve already been a great help.” As Shawn walked past, he shook the porter’s hand and gave him two dollars.
The porter looked down at the money. “Sir, you don’t gotta pay me for answering a question. I give answers out for free.”
“I insist,” Shawn said as he turned and headed down the aisle. An average tip ran more in the order of fifteen cents or a quarter, but after what Ezra Jeffries had done, saving his son’s life at Christmas, Shawn had resolved never to take a black man for granted again.
Shawn stepped down from the train and followed the line of passengers heading into the terminal. He made his way past the first big room and then into the second. Immediately his eyes were drawn upward to the ceiling of the cavernous room. The porter had not exaggerated. It was one long massive series of stone arches, perhaps the most impressive ceiling he had ever seen. The white arches were trimmed in gold; between each, large octagons connected them together. The whole place reminded him of the elegance of Wanamaker’s department store in downtown Philly.
Someone bumped into him from behind, almost knocking him down. “Sorry, soldier,” the middle-aged man said. “Not a good time for sightseeing.”
He kept walking but looked up again at the life-sized Roman statues around the perimeter, where the walls and ceiling met. He smiled as he noticed their shields, remembering what the porter had said. It did appear they were naked below the waist, except for those shields. What kind of idiot would sculpt warriors without pants? Shawn thought. He looked to the right. The ceiling gave way to a smaller set of arches separated by a series of glass doors.
“That looks like the place,” he mumbled to himself and threaded a pathway through the crowd in that general direction. As he neared, amongst the throng he noticed a young soldier wearing an overcoat standing against the flow of the crowd, holding a sign, waving in Shawn’s direction. As Shawn looked at the sign, he was surprised to see his name. “I guess you’re my driver,” Shawn said.
The young man instantly converted his waving hand to a salute. “Corporal John Miller, sir. At your service. It’s an honor, Captain Collins. Can I take your bag?”
“That’s all right,” Shawn said. The salute he expected, but why would anyone consider meeting him an honor? “Do you know me?”
“Colonel Simmons showed me your picture and told me who you are. He was very emphatic, said if I was late or lost you, I’d be shot. I’ve got a car parked just outside. If you’ll follow me.”
“This is quite a place,” Shawn said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It really is, but wait till you see the rest.”
“The rest?”
“The colonel said I was to give you the grand tour before I take you back to the Pentagon. The Capitol Building, the Supreme Court, White House, and the Lincoln Memorial. Then we’ll grab some food at the Pentagon cafeteria. Pretty good chow.”
Shawn followed Corporal Miller’s hurried pace. What was going on? He thought he was coming here for a quick meeting to find out his next assignment. But a private driver? A grand tour ordered by a colonel? And then on to the Pentagon? He had read about the Pentagon, a monstrous project finished just last year, supposed to be the biggest office building in the world. But he never dreamed he’d see it up close.
“Where is the Pentagon?”
“Across the Potomac a ways,” Miller said. “Now there’s an impressive place. Not as fancy as Union Station, but way bigger. Here’s the car, sir.” He opened the back door for Shawn.
Shawn threw on his overcoat. Before getting in, he stood a moment and surveyed the scene. First the car, the longest car he’d ever seen, had to be a staff car for generals and top brass. Straight ahead, a few blocks away through some empty trees, something else caught his eye. “Is that the—”
“Capitol Building? Yep, sure is, sir. Our first stop.”
Corporal Miller had driven Shawn slowly around the Capitol, then past the Supreme Court Building. They were now riding down Constitution Avenue, headed toward the White House. It amazed him to see all these historic buildings, things he’d only seen before in newspapers or black-and-white newsreels. And Miller could have been a tour guide, filling the empty spaces with all kinds of facts and trivia. Shawn was glad for the distraction.
Every few moments he couldn’t help but look up at the top of the Washington monument, which he could see at any angle. The city seemed to boil over with people and traffic, much busier than downtown Philly. “Is it like this every day?” Shawn asked, looking out the window as a hundred people hustled across the intersection.
“Pretty much,” said Miller. “I came here in ’42. Three times as many people here now than then, and it just keeps growing. About a block up here on the left, you’ll see one of the nastier side effects. See those rows of boxy two-story buildings lining the Mall area? Don’t think the founding fathers had those in mind.”
“I don’t see any granite steps,” Shawn said.
Miller laughed. “Exactly, sir. It’s temporary housing they threw up in a hurry for all the thousands of workers they brought in to support the war. Ugly as sin, you ask me. The president promised they’ll all come down after the war.”
Shawn stared at a string of white sheets and towels blowing on a clothesline as they drove slowly past the apartments. The whole scene seemed so out of place.
“If you look to your right, Captain, just up ahead you’ll see the White House.” He looked in his rearview mirror. “I’m going to slow down. It’s set back a ways, but I like the view back here on Constitution Avenue. I’ll drive around the whole thing, nice and slow. On the other side, we’ll get real close.”
As they drove past, Shawn noticed two anti-aircraft gun emplacements, one on each corner, manned by three soldiers apiece in full battle gear. Their guns pointed to the sky. Shawn had seen several others at the Capitol Building. “Had many German bomber attacks, Corporal?”
Miller laughed. “No, sir. Not since I been here. Kind of crazy, isn’t it. Think by now, we’d let it go. I know a few guys on that duty. Bored out of their minds.”
As Shawn gazed at the manicured lawn and shrubs leading up to the majestic steps and pillars of the White House, he thought about how different Washington was from London. There, surrounding all the historical and architectural landmarks, were dozens of bombed-out buildings and rubble strewn all about. Once, while Shawn was on leave, a wave of German bombers had flown over the city, sending everyone fleeing to underground bunkers and the subway tubes. As the bombs fell and exploded, Shawn could hear the anti-aircraft gunners firing right back. “The gunners in London are never bored,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
Shawn was still not totally used to the idea that he was no longer in mortal danger. After they drove around the White House, they headed over to the Lincoln Memorial. Miller suggested they park and get out. “Gotta see this one up close, sir.”
Shawn was glad they did. He took his time as he read the Gettysburg Address etched in the granite wall. Then he walked to the edge of the steps and looked out toward the Washington Monument and, beyond it, the Capitol. Elizabeth would have loved this, he thought. She would have loved everything about this place. They had talked about visiting here when Shawn came home from the war.
“Looks like we better head over to the Pentagon, sir. I need to get you there by 2:00 p.m. If we leave now, we’ll just have time to grab some lunch.”
“Whatever you say, Corporal. Lead the way.” Shawn still couldn’t understand this VIP treatment. It didn’t make any sense. He knew better than to ask Corporal Miller anything. But it was clear, something was up. They crossed the Potomac on the Arlington Memorial Bridge. Shawn noticed Robert E. Lee’s home high on the hill as they turned.
“The Pentagon’s just a few blocks ahead on the right, sir. Colonel Simmons said he’s very anxious to meet you.”
Shawn could not begin to understand why.
“What do you think, Captain? Ain’t she something?”
Shawn was already staring. The Pentagon was massive. Not that tall—maybe four or five stories—but it was so thick, all of stone and windows, like a modern-day castle fortress.
“Just a year old this week,” Miller said. “Before they built it, we were spread out in seventeen buildings all over the city. Got over twenty thousand people working here now. That’s more than we got in my hometown back in Ohio.”
As they got closer, Shawn felt a sense of pride he didn’t expect. He thought about all the buildings he’d seen today. We have to be doing something right, he thought, to be able to make all this.
“I gotta check the car back in the pool, sir. I’ll drop you off right up here. Just wait for me at the curb, and I’ll join up with you in a few minutes.”
“Any chance they got a pay phone nearby? I’d like to call my son.”
“Tell you what, sir . . . they got one on the curb around the next side. I’ll drop you off there instead.”
“Thanks, Corporal.”
Shawn got out by the telephone booth and watched Miller drive off into the sea of cars. The wind had picked up, so he hurried inside and slid the door over. The phone rang, must have been a dozen times. He hung up and dialed again. He looked at his watch. It wouldn’t be like his father to go anywhere. After the third attempt, someone finally picked up.
“Hello?” It was Patrick.
“Hey, bud, it’s me.”
“Daddy!” Patrick yelled. “Are you home?”
“No, silly, if I was home I wouldn’t call you on the phone.”
“When are you coming home?”
“Remember what I said this morning? I’ll be home tonight, but it will be after your bedtime.”
“I remember,” he said, dejected.
“Hey, how come it took so long for you fellas to answer the phone? I tried three times. I was starting to worry.”
“We were up in the attic. I told Grandpa the phone was ringing, but he didn’t believe me. Then he heard it and let me come answer it.”
“What are you doing up in the attic?”
“Grandpa is letting me help him put all the Christmas stuff away.”
“He is?”
Patrick whispered the next part. “And he hasn’t yelled at me one time.”
“That’s just what I was going to ask,” said Shawn. “You having fun?”
“A lot. What are you doing? Are you having fun?”
Shawn laughed. “No, I’d rather be with you and Grandpa. I’m just going to some old meeting with a colonel, to talk about my next job in the army.”
“They’re not going to let you stay home?”
“I don’t think so, Patrick. But I’m going to try my best. Uh-oh, here comes the soldier to take me to my meeting. Gotta go. Love you.”
“I love you too,” said Patrick.
“I’ll come in and kiss you when I get home.”
“Will you wake me up?”
“We’ll see. Be good for Grandpa.”
They hung up. Shawn exited the phone booth. “Okay, Corporal . . . let’s see the colonel.”
“You don’t want to eat first, sir?” Miller asked.
“I forgot. No, let’s eat. I’ll follow you.”
Ian Collins sat on a large wooden chest in the attic, waiting until he heard Patrick’s footsteps coming back up the stairs. He took a deep breath and groaned as he stood up. He felt so tired. He walked to his workbench near the back wall, choosing his steps carefully. The last time up here was Christmas Eve. He was finishing the wooden soldier he’d carved for Patrick. He knew then that soldier would be his last project. He picked up the worn leather pouch that had held his carving tools all these years and opened the flap.
He heard Patrick clear the last step. He turned and walked toward him when a wave of dizziness washed over him. He felt light-headed; his legs seemed to give way. He reached back for the workbench to keep from falling.
“Grandpa, you okay?”
Collins shook his head and wiped his forehead with a rag. “I’m fine, Patrick. I almost tripped, that’s all.”
Patrick walked toward the Christmas decorations. “Are we almost done?”
“Yeah . . . almost done.”
Patrick waited a moment. “Are you coming over?”
It seemed his head was clearing. He set the leather pouch down. “Be right there.” The pouch had just given him an idea, something he and Patrick could do together while Shawn was away. He decided to bring the pouch down to his room, to avoid having to climb the attic stairs again.