Along Waters of Sunshine and Shadow

by Ava Miles

  Silence was her only answer. Her mother had walked away.

  “Maybe I should go,” she heard Noah say softly.

  She spun around. “No! Don’t you dare let her…headache discourage you.” She waved her hand, searching for the right words. “Noah, I want you here. The neighborhood wants you here.”

  His hands settled over her arms. “Anna, I want to be here, but she’s your mother.”

  She’d been feeding herself that same line for over a year now. “It’s her choice if she wants to stay upstairs for most of the party,” she told him. “The rest of us are going to have a good ol’ fashioned party. Have you ever seen the Irish party, Noah?”

  His eyes were troubled, so she touched his cheek. His eyes closed for a moment as if he too were unbearably saddened by what had transpired. And why wouldn’t he be? Her mother’s words had to feel like a rejection.

  “You look at me. We’re going to have a gay time tonight. Trust me. Will you help me set up the card tables outside? They’re in the basement.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  Anna threw her arms around him. “Noah Weatherby, I love you and you love me. The war couldn’t keep us apart, and neither can anything else. No force on earth can. Time to get used to the idea.”

  The thought of all they’d overcome so far made her feel like breaking down and crying on his shoulder, so she squeezed him and set off for the basement. Noah followed her down the squeaky steps, and by the time she pulled on the string at the bottom, illuminating the space, he stood beside her. The canned goods she and her mother had put up were mostly gone from last summer save a couple jars of beets, which neither of them loved. Martin’s old bicycle caught her eye. The tires were gone, part of the tire drive for the war.

  “After this war is over, we’ll get new tires for Martin’s bike and you can ride it around if you’d like,” she said, pointing to it in the corner. “It’s a nice neighborhood to take a turn in. Martin used to put me on the handlebars and pedal as fast as he could until I begged him to let me off.”

  He grimaced. “I…ah…don’t know how to ride a bike.”

  Right. The orphanage. Sometimes she needed to remind herself that he hadn’t grown up in a normal home with two parents like she had.

  “I’ll teach you. My bike is in the garage. But no matter. Let’s get these card tables.”

  “Where are they?” he asked.

  She showed him and tried to protest when he picked up all four. “But you’re—”

  “If you knew how much my pack weighed… Anna, go on upstairs and hold the door. I’ll be right behind you. Then you can show me where to put these.”

  They headed out to the backyard, and he set them up where she instructed. “The others will bring more tables and chairs. Noah, I hate that you have to be lifting things, what with you just getting in yesterday and all.”

  “Anna, if you knew the last time I was at a party… The generosity of your neighbors overwhelms me. I mean, your mother is right. I’m not family.”

  She poked her finger in his chest. “Are you not my beau? And the man Martin thought of like a brother? Trust me, Noah Weatherby, that makes you good and special.” She couldn’t say family yet. They hadn’t spoken explicitly of marriage, but she had a feeling they would get there.

  Sure enough, the closest neighbors saw them out in the backyard and started to carry out more tables and chairs. She introduced Noah to the ones he hadn’t met and whispered the names of the ones he’d briefly encountered the day before.

  The sun was warm, and she hustled inside to pour a few glasses of iced tea. She heard a knock on the front door, so she headed that way. When she opened the door, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Hiya, teacher,” Willie Buckley said. “Mom sent me over to help you and your fella get ready for the party.”

  She loved hearing Noah called that. “That was nice of her,” Anna said, although she knew Mrs. Buckley had probably jumped at the chance not to have him underfoot.

  Willie was one of the students she shared a special bond with. Like her, he’d lost his brother in the war. He’d gotten into loads of fights at school, but his behavior had improved drastically after Anna sat him down to talk. They’d spoken about their brothers and how upset they both felt, and Willie had broken down. He hadn’t gotten into another fight at school, although she knew he sometimes still did in the neighborhood.

  “You know Mom,” Willie said. His eyes darted to the table. “Wow, you have as many cakes and pies as the church bake sale. Can I have a piece now?”

  “No, you can’t,” she said. “But maybe after you help awhile, I’ll make an exception. Come and meet Noah.”

  “Mom says he’s a real hero, what with serving with Audie Murphy and all.”

  Anna stopped short. Audie Murphy was the most decorated solider in the war. He’d been on the cover of Life Magazine last week, looking handsome as all get out in his uniform. She hadn’t read the issue, but she’d seen it at newsstands downtown.

  “I…somehow had forgotten that.”

  Noah had never said anything about him in his letters, but he hadn’t mentioned too many of the boys in his unit. Most of the ones he’d talked about had died. Only Billie, his friend from Chicago, was still alive, and even he’d been wounded. It struck her that Billie would likely be coming home soon. Hopefully he would give Noah one more reason to consider staying in Chicago.

  “You said he was 3rd Infantry Division, right?” Willie asked.

  “I did,” she said, crouching down. “But Noah doesn’t like to talk about the war. You might…ask him about something else.”

  “No one wants to talk about the war,” Willie said in a voice laced with regret. “I just don’t understand it. We licked those Krauts something good and—”

  “Willie, please don’t use that term,” she said. “You know we have Germans living in Chicago. It’s…unkind.”

  “Doesn’t make them stop calling me a Mick when they see me downtown,” he told her.

  “Willie Buckley, did you just roll your eyes at me?”

  “Sorry, Miss Sims,” he said. “I’m going out back to help your fella. I promise I won’t ask him about the war.”

  He slowed down as he walked by the dining room table, as if cataloguing the goods. Moments later, he was running through the house, and then the back door slammed. She thought about going out there to introduce him to Noah, but Willie would do just fine. She needed to pour the iced tea.

  But the doorbell rang again and again, with neighbors delivering more food or chairs for the party. When she finally got back to the backyard, she spotted Noah surrounded by a cluster of boys, a few from her class like Willie. He had a bottle of Squirt in his hand, and he was smiling as Brendan Dougherty talked with his hands, likely telling a tall tale. He was ten years old now and told her she was pretty every chance he could, the little charmer.

  “How’s everything going out here?”

  “Hiya, Miss Sims,” Brendan said, rushing over and grabbing her hand, only to pull her closer to their group. “Your fella gave me ten dollars for cutting your grass. I love him!”

  “He did?” Her gaze flew to Noah’s. “But your mother wouldn’t let me do anything for you.”

  “She’s crazy sometimes,” Brendan said, circling his finger at his head.

  “Brendan Dougherty!”

  “Sorry, Miss Sims.”

  Noah shrugged. “Work deserves compensation. And that’s enough of that.”

  She decided not to pursue the matter. Part of her thought it was downright sweet of him. Like he was taking care of things as the man of the house—just as Martin had wanted.

  “He told us that the Japs don’t eat little kids like you hear about,” Willie Buckley said with a grimace. “Can you believe that?”

  Her mouth parted in surprise. “I didn’t know you actually thought that, Willie.” Of course, she’d heard a lot of things said about the Japanese, but she hadn’t taken that one seriously. �
�You know cannibals don’t really exist any more.”

  “Only in books like Robinson Crusoe,” Noah said, flashing her a smile.

  “Do you know that book?” Willie asked, slapping his hand to his forehead. “I love that book! Miss Sims read it to us for a few weeks. It’s crazy.”

  “It’s one of my favorites,” Noah said. He seemed more relaxed than usual. Not that she’d seen much of him in person, of course, but there was less tension in the way he carried himself.

  “Miss Sims, we’re not asking Noah any questions about him fighting or anything,” Willie told her, his hands sticky from his Coca-Cola bottle.

  She wondered who had brought the sodas out back.

  Noah raised his eyebrow at her, but she only smiled. “I’m going to brew up some more tea for iced tea.”

  “Don’t worry about drinks,” Brendan said. “Dad said he and some of the guys were bringing more sodas and other drinks.”

  “That’s nice of him,” Anna said. Shifting her gaze to Noah, she explained, “Brendan’s father owns one of the pubs in the neighborhood, and he’s just back from the war.”

  “My dad is known for pulling the best pint out of all the bartenders in town,” the boy said with a grin. “Of course, my mom kept it running while he was in Europe, but now that he’s back, she’s going to take a breather. We’re a handful.”

  That sounded like Mary Dougherty, Anna thought, but she wasn’t wrong. “Noah used to be a bartender,” she told Brendan.

  “Cool! You should tell my dad that. He could hire you. Mom says we need to do everything we can to help our boys get back on their feet. That’s why I’m not supposed to tell my dad if he’s wrong about where something is in the house. Mom moved a lot of things, and he’s been upset about it.”

  Noah cleared his throat. “Your mom sounds like a nice woman, Brendan, and I can’t wait to meet your father. Boys, I’m going to help Anna for a while. Do you think you can keep a handle on everything out here?”

  The boys all nodded, even four-year-old Robbie Dougherty, who followed his older brother around like he was his hero. Little Robbie was born just before Pearl Harbor, so he had no memory of his father. Mary had told her in confidence that he’d cried the first time Brian tried to hug him. The poor woman had cried too while telling her about it.

  “Willie, I want a tally of the number of soda pops we have so far. Brendan, I want you to count all the chairs and then add up how many people you think are coming tonight.”

  Noah continued to fire off orders to the boys, and she loved seeing the respect he’d already garnered from them. He was a natural leader, something Martin had mentioned in his letters to her—and a natural with kids too.

  When they went inside, she looked around to make sure no one had come inside the house to drop anything off while she was out back. Satisfied, she put her arms around Noah’s neck and pressed her mouth to his.

  He jerked in surprise, but then his hands slid around her waist. His lips softened and started to move over hers.

  “They adore you,” she said against his mouth.

  He eased back and traced her cheek. “They miss having men around, I expect. I’m glad Brendan and Robbie’s father is back. That helps. So you told the boys not to ask me about the war, huh?”

  Was this dangerous territory? She couldn’t quite tell. “Willie remembered you were in the Third and asked if you knew Audie Murphy…and…”

  “I see.” He straightened his spine, almost as if the mere mention of the solider had him standing at attention. “I don’t like to mention it since people know so much about him now. After Holtzwihr…”

  Even Anna knew that story. Lieutenant Murphy had saved dozens of lives while taking out a bunch of Germans in the process.

  “He’s a great man,” Noah said. “I respect him and was honored to serve with him and under him. But you’re right. I don’t much like to talk about what we did over there.”

  He hadn’t told her much in his letters, although he’d told her more than many men probably did. Sure, it hadn’t been anything battle-oriented. That wasn’t allowed, and for good reason. But he’d told her plenty of hard truths about the strain of war on a person and the moral struggles he faced doing his duty.

  “Have I told you today how much I love you, Noah Weatherby?”

  His smiles were coming more frequently now. In moments like this, she could feel the changes happening inside him, like old pieces of him resurging and coming together. She liked to think it was partly her love that was doing it.

  “I believe you whispered it to me at the sandwich shop earlier,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “I almost choked on my roast beef.”

  “Now that you’re finally here in person, I find I don’t want to hold anything back.”

  Part of her was scared at the urgency she felt to share everything with him, but it felt right. The war had given her that urgency, and she tried to think of it as one of those silver linings she’d written to Noah about.

  “Things are going to get a little crazy tonight, I imagine,” she said. “I tried to warn you earlier. We Irish know how to party.”

  “I’ll manage,” he said, kissing her cheek.

  Hours later, as she watched Noah dance with Mrs. Fitzsimmons, she found herself smiling and swaying to the music. Her heart was happy. The war seemed so far away tonight. No one had on the nighttime broadcast, something you could usually hear through people’s open windows as you walked past their houses in the summer, and everyone had come together to celebrate Noah.

  “He’s wonderful, Anna,” Father Shaughnessy said, appearing beside her. “Martin was always a good judge of character. I can see why they became brothers. And I can see why he would catch your eye. He’s an old soul.”

  Even thoughts of Martin couldn’t dim her mood. She could feel him watching from heaven with a smile on his face. He’d have loved tonight.

  “You’re right about Martin. He was friendly with everyone, but he only had a few close friends. Always said a guy had to have your back or he wasn’t worth anything. My dad said the same.”

  “Noah would stand up,” Father said. “I’d want him to be on my side in a fight.”

  “I pray his fighting days are over forever,” she said. “I want to thank you for offering him a place to stay at the rectory. I know what an honor it is.”

  Father sipped his whiskey. “I expect a few people will hem and haw about him not being Catholic, but I’ll deal with them. You might have to as well, but I imagine you’ve thought of that.”

  She actually hadn’t. “The old guard is pretty traditional about things.” And her mother was one of them.

  “Why that should matter so much to some people, I’ll never understand,” Father said, “I may not be traditional in my thinking, but I’ve preached about it before and I’ll preach about it again. As if our Lord would have asked what religion someone was before performing a miracle. Balderdash.”

  She linked her arm through his. “My mother barely stayed past making up a plate for dinner. I know people noticed.” God, she hoped they weren’t already gossiping about Noah’s background and her mother’s reaction to it. It wasn’t like she could explain her mother objected to him for other reasons.

  “Maybe she was living by the old adage of ‘if you don’t have anything nice to say…’”

  “It still doesn’t make it right.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” he said, his mouth twisting as if the thought was bitter to him. “Too bad she didn’t take me up on my invitation to dance. Dancing lightens the mood of most people, even grieving ones.”

  “You’re so Irish, Father, and the good kind,” she said, bumping him a little. “Dancing.”

  “Yes, dancing,” he said, leading her in a merry circle to the music. “Speaking of which, you should go dance with Noah before one of the other women grabs him. Maybe you’re right, and it’s the Irish in me that thinks so, but it’s pretty clear people have missed dancing. Maybe I need
to host a dance at the parish hall. I know we haven’t beat the Japanese yet, but we all see the light at the end of the tunnel, thank the Lord. That’s something to celebrate.”

  The war had stopped all of the celebrating for a spell. Halloween had been suspended for the last three years, something she’d been outraged about on behalf of the children. When the White House had forgone a Christmas tree, so had nearly every American family. The few weddings she’d attended had been serious affairs, what with the men going back to the war.

  “It’s like all the joy in the world disappeared during the war.”

  Father gave her a mischievous wink. “Yes, but we can always change that. I’ll do some thinking on this parish dance. Now I’m going to do some dancing myself. Come, I’ll take Mrs. Fitzsimmons from your beau.”

  They walked to the center of the backyard, which was functioning as an informal dance floor. Everyone had danced tonight—even Old Mr. Dunne. Her mother would complain about the footprints and any divots in the lawn, Anna knew, but she would fix what she could tomorrow. The grass would mend easier than her mother’s heart, it seemed.

  “Noah, I brought your sweetheart here,” Father said as the song ended. “Mrs. Fitzsimmons, would you care to dance with an old priest?”

  “I’d be happy to, Father,” the woman said. “Anna, thank you for allowing me to dance with your young man. He’s a keeper. I can see why he and Martin took to each other.”

  “Your lady,” Father said, spinning Anna in a circle and leading her into Noah’s arms.

  He held her gently around the waist. “Thank you for the dance, Mrs. Fitzsimmons. I’ll let you know when I can come for tea and that wonderful pound cake of yours.”

  Father set his drink down on one of the side tables, and Anna gave Willie a look when she saw him eyeing the half-drunk whiskey. She would bust his chops if he tried sneaking any of it. Sure, some of the boys did such things at parties, but they weren’t going to do it under her watch.

  “You have your tiger look on,” Noah said softly, leading her to the orchestra music.

  “Some of the boys look like they’re liable to sneak a little whiskey or beer from the abandoned glasses,” she said.