Along Waters of Sunshine and Shadow

by Ava Miles

  She paused and waited for Noah’s response. Okay, she’d been growing a little impatient.

  August 27th hadn’t seemed like a long time to wait when he’d suggested it, but the days had started to drag on lately. How was she going to handle another five weeks? She hated leaving him every night. Hated the restraint they had to put into their kissing and brief touching. There seemed like there was no place they could be truly alone, and it was driving her crazy. They loved each other. She didn’t see why they couldn’t get married and work out everything else afterward.

  “Like hell you’ll marry her,” Noah responded in a gravelly voice. “There are plenty of other girls in Chicago.”

  That appeased her some. She felt guilty for eavesdropping, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to listen a little longer.

  “I grew up here,” Billie said. “Trust me, she might be a good Catholic girl—wouldn’t be a teacher otherwise—but she’s got grit and looks. I mean, those legs… Man, I envy you.”

  How dare he speak about her legs, and in her own home. She thought about forgoing that extra pork chop altogether.

  “Enough of that talk,” Noah said. “Tell me about how you left things. The radio is shit on details. I want to punch the wall every time I hear a news report. It’s as useful as tits on a boar.”

  She was sure her mouth must have dropped open. Noah never cussed around her. Did he always do it around other men, or just fellow soldiers? She’d heard filthy words come out of soldiers’ mouths at the USO and the hospital, but then again, their language wasn’t any worse than what she heard from drunken revelers on South Side. She decided it was time to leave.

  “In a second, Lucky Strike,” Billie said. “Seriously, why haven’t you married that girl? You told me how crazy you were about her when we were fighting the Jerries. Is she not everything you thought she’d be?”

  “She’s wonderful, incredible,” Noah said. “But there are some other factors.”

  She strained to hear his next words.

  “What exactly?” Billie pressed.

  “Leave it alone,” Noah countered, and she heard the scraping of a kitchen chair.

  “No way, man,” Billie said. “If there are factors, tell me what they are. Maybe I can help. I’m from here, after all.”

  Was that a growl she heard?

  “I’m still not so sure I like Chicago for one,” Noah said. “I’ve been trying to get over it, mostly since I met this private at the USO… Long story. But it’s like a war playground here, and I’m having trouble getting past it.”

  She hadn’t realized his distaste for Chicago was still a problem. When he’d talked about being upset by what he’d seen around town and at the USO, she’d understood. He’d even told her about his talk with Private Garrett and how much it had affected him. But it clearly hadn’t done much to sway his opinion. Why couldn’t he accept that her hometown was doing plenty of good for their soldiers? They had more war plants than any other city, she suspected. Masses of women had stepped up to help. That wasn’t frivolous in her mind. It spoke to the heart of their city.

  Another chair scraped. “You never were one to party when we had the chance,” Billie said. “Not that there was ever much downtime. Our unit never had a cushy assignment, did it?”

  There was no response from Noah.

  “So you don’t like Chicago,” Billie said. “Big deal! Take her with you to D.C. With your war record, you could probably get a nice job at that new military building the government keeps hyping. What’s it called?”

  “The Pentagon,” Noah said.

  Anna didn’t remember much about it except from movie reels. Designed to protect the U.S. from enemies, it was supposed to be the largest office building in the world.

  “I haven’t thought about that,” Noah said. “Her job is here, and this neighborhood is her family.”

  “Welcome to Chicago,” Billie said dryly. “Neighborhoods look after their own, but they can also kick your ass and make you toe the line. Being an orphan, I got kicked since I didn’t belong to anyone. She’s a teacher at one of the Catholic schools, right?”

  Again, no response from Noah, and Anna wondered if he’d nodded.

  “Well, nothing controls life in Chicago like the church and the mob. Boy, this here is South Side. She might live in an upscale neighborhood, but that doesn’t change how things are done here. You’re not Catholic, right?”

  One of the chairs scraped again, as if Billie was moving his chair closer.

  “Listen, man, if you’re not Catholic, it’s going to be an uphill battle for you in this neighborhood. First, you aren’t from here, which makes you an outsider. Second, you aren’t one of them. Catholics are tight. You know you’ll have to agree to raise your kids Catholic, right? They have some strong rules about that shit.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Anna heard Noah respond, and the slow cadence of his voice told her he was upset about it.

  She clenched her hand into a fist. Oh, this wasn’t fair. She should never have eavesdropped. Now she knew about Noah’s concerns and couldn’t say anything unless she admitted what she’d done. Worse, Billie was creating more problems in Noah’s mind. In her heart, she’d hoped he might be swayed to convert to Catholicism. He’d become close to Father Shaughnessy, after all, and he’d even gone into the church the other night. Everyone in the neighborhood had taken to him, regardless of his background.

  But there were serious rules about marrying a man outside her faith. If he didn’t convert, they’d have to get married in the rectory rather than the church, and that didn’t seem as sacred somehow. And she did want their children raised Catholic.

  “Then there’s her mother,” she heard Noah say.

  Hurt radiated through her heart. Her mother’s grief was wearing on her, all the more so since Noah had shared the details around Martin’s death.

  “She’s grieving her son very hard,” he said. “I’m pretty sure she blames me for how Martin died, and I can’t say I blame her. Anna said I shouldn’t feel guilty, and part of me knows she’s right. But her mother stays in her room all the time, it seems, and we have to stay out of the house when she’s around. It’s hard to be around her…and not feel guilty.”

  “Well, fuck her,” Billie exclaimed.

  Anna put her hand over her mouth to cover her gasp. Such language!

  “You’re part of the Rock of the Marne, man. Our division had the most combat days of any unit in Europe. We fought in shitholes and took down the Jerries on their own turf. You’ve got a goddamn Medal of Honor and two Distinguished Service Crosses, if I remember correctly. And how many Silver Stars?”

  “It’s not important,” she heard Noah mutter even as shock rolled through her.

  He hadn’t said anything about being decorated. Why hadn’t she suspected? Frustration rose. If he hadn’t even told her about his medals, would he ever tell her what kept him awake at night? She wanted a marriage of the hearts and the minds.

  “You remember who you are,” Billie said like a drill sergeant might. “Audie Murphy might be getting all the fanfare, but in my opinion, we’re all goddamn military heroes. I wouldn’t have minded being on the cover of Life Magazine.”

  “That’s not why we were over there, Billie,” Noah said. “That kind of shit doesn’t interest me. You know that.”

  “I do,” Billie said, “but don’t you forget how much you’ve given to this country. That woman might mourn her son. I get that. But if she’s making you feel guilty for being alive, she’s insulting a goddamn hero, and that makes me want to give her a piece of my mind.”

  The steel in his voice sent chills through Anna. He sounded like he’d knock her block off if she so much as said a bad word to Noah. That wasn’t the way. Her mother wanted her to be happy. Hadn’t she commented on how happy Anna had looked the night of Noah’s welcome party? Anna made sure to remember that every day. Her mother’s grief would pass. It had to.

  “Stop that kind of talk,” Noah said. “No
one is going to dress down Anna’s mom. Mrs. Sims will either come around or she won’t, but I won’t be the cause of trouble between Anna and her mother. Martin wouldn’t want that. And I couldn’t live with it. I’m not sure Anna would be able to either.”

  Her muscles seemed to go lax at the mention of her brother. She leaned against the wall, fighting tears. Suddenly everything seemed impossible.

  “Besides, if the war isn’t over by the end of the month, I’ve decided I’m going to have them send me over, although I haven’t had the courage to tell Anna yet. I figure I’ll do it if it comes to it.”

  He’d decided this without her? What about making plans together?

  “You’re a glutton for punishment, but I know what you mean. We did our part in Europe and then some, but I get antsy with the war still going on. So long as the enemy is breathing, I want to kill them.”

  Anna couldn’t bear to hear any more.

  “I don’t like killing,” Noah said, “but if it has to be done, I’ll do it. We all need this war to end.”

  “Yeah, it’s murder on my future plans,” Billie said. “You think any more about meeting some of my former associates and working with me? Like I told you, I have some good connections here, ones the war didn’t affect.”

  “I’m keeping an open mind,” Noah said, “and willing to meet them and hear more.”

  He’d thought about working with this man? God knew what Billie would try to rope him into doing.

  “It’s funny,” Billie said. “I’d hoped you’d be hitched with a goofy grin on your face from all of the bedtime privileges. You look about as grim as you did fighting the Nazis.”

  Anna walked to the front door as quietly as she could, praying they wouldn’t hear her. On the porch, she bit her lip to keep from crying. Grim? Yes, Noah had been grim at times, but she’d blamed that on the difficult transition he was undergoing.

  After hearing him today, he seemed like a different person, one she didn’t know.

  Maybe they weren’t right for each other long-term, after all.

  Chapter 13

  Noah couldn’t help but wonder what was keeping Anna. When he’d gotten up to grab a soda, he’d looked into the grocery bags. Sure enough, there were only two brown-wrapped packages with pork chop written on them. He hated that she’d had to go to the store again, but she hadn’t given him a chance to talk her out of it. He’d have happily munched on roast chicken leftovers from yesterday’s lunch.

  When he heard someone clomp loudly into the hallway, he rose from his chair, gripping the back. Mrs. Sims appeared in the doorway, her mouth tight, looking like a scary black and white photo of Queen Victoria in her later years.

  “I see you’re making yourself right at home,” she said. “Noah, I tolerate your presence around because of my daughter, but I don’t appreciate you bringing your friends here.” She gave Billie a pointed look as he stood too.

  “Mrs. Sims,” he said, reaching for patience, “this is one of my buddies from the Army. He was born and raised in Chicago and just got back home. He…ah…didn’t know Martin, but he’s heard stories about him from the other guys.”

  “Mrs. Sims,” Billie said, and Noah noticed he didn’t tip his finger to his forehead in respect like he usually would.

  She dug a fist into her belly. “Please don’t refer to my son, Noah. The very thought of him and how he died gives me pain. Where is Anna?”

  Billie gave him a look as her dagger sunk into his belly. Would she ever stop thinking he was at fault for Martin’s death? He’d tried to buffer Anna from how it made him feel, but it was getting harder. They couldn’t make themselves scarce around the house forever.

  “At the store,” he said. “Ah…are you feeling okay, Mrs. Sims? Usually you’re at work this time of day.”

  “I have a dreadful headache that you and your friend aren’t helping.”

  He made the decision on the spot. “We’ll leave you in peace then. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mrs. Sims. I hope you feel better.”

  He didn’t ask her to pass a message to Anna because he doubted she would. Anna would come back from the store soon. He’d catch her then.

  Billie opened his mouth as if to say something, but Noah jerked his head slightly, the same signal he used to use to keep Billie from countermanding an order from their commanding officer. Noah slapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and ushered him out of the kitchen. When they left the house, he made sure they were well out of hearing before turning to Billie, who was tight-lipped.

  “Thank you for not making it worse,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  Billie whistled. “She’s a piece of work. I’ll give you that. I’d think twice about marrying a woman with a mother like that. Might be a bad seed in that line.”

  Noah didn’t care for that suggestion. He figured kids made themselves who they were. “Who would have figured you for a nature over nurture kind of guy?”

  “Huh?” Billie asked.

  “Never mind,” Noah said. “Let’s wait for Anna on the corner. Then we can figure out where to go. She has a car, but there are some places to eat not too far from here. Dougherty’s Pub is pretty good, and it’s run by a great guy who just got back from Europe.”

  “I’d just as soon stay out of bars in South Side,” Billie said.

  Noah’s frustration bloomed. “Look, Anna mentioned these…opinions people have about other people’s neighborhoods. I just want to be clear. I don’t want to hear them.”

  Billie cocked his head, and Noah could feel his anger rise as well. “You telling me how to act in my own town, Lucky Strike?”

  He took a breath, sensing the tension in the air. “No, I’m only trying to tell you… Anna lives here, and the people in this neighborhood have been nice to me. Hell, they threw me a welcome party when I arrived, chock full of cakes and pies the women had to use their ration cards to make.”

  “I’m glad they’re treating you right,” Billie said, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk. “The way Anna’s mother acted brought to mind some other memories. She all but threw us out of her house.”

  Now things were starting to make sense. Billie had been raised in an orphanage too, something they’d bonded over. Poor treatment came with the territory. Noah himself had been told more than once that he wasn’t fit for company.

  “She was mostly throwing me out, Billie. You were just gravy.”

  The man laughed like he’d hoped, and Noah slapped him on the back. “There’s also a really good sandwich shop whose name I always forget.”

  “That sounds fine,” Billie said, and they shared a look of understanding.

  “Sorry it won’t be pork chops. Anna makes a mean one. Of course, she looked at me crossways when I asked if she had ketchup. Sometimes she doesn’t understand how much you can miss something so simple after subsisting on K-rations.”

  “Or the crap they served in the mess tent when we were lucky enough to have one,” Billie said. “Who knew that was lucky, Lucky Strike?”

  “Would you mind calling me Noah from now on? The other name makes me think of things I’d rather move past.”

  Billie paused under the shade of a large American Elm. Since it was a hot day, it seemed everyone in the neighborhood was inside save a passel of kids playing with a well-patched ball in the cross street. He spotted Willie and Frankie and the Dougherty boys.

  “But Lucky Strike is a great nickname,” Billie said. “Beats the one we gave Masters.”

  Yeah, Stinky was a pretty shitty name if you asked Noah. One of the guys had called him that after commenting that he always reeked of body odor—even in the cold.

  “Masters was a good solider.”

  “Yeah,” Billie said, his voice lower now. “They all were. Damn Jerries.”

  Noah hung his head for a moment. He tried not to think about how many guys they’d lost. Being away from the war, he could go most of the day without thinking about it. Then he had to face his bed, and even when he focused
on something good—like his day with Anna—he found himself dreaming about Martin and the other boys who’d died in front of him. Some had been shot up with machine gun fire. Some had been blown up by artillery. Then there were the ones he’d killed. God, he’d killed hundreds, with everything from his BAR to his bayonet.

  “Do you ever…?” Maybe he shouldn’t ask. He had a feeling Billie wouldn’t get it.

  “What?”

  He kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk. “Ever regret killing people? I mean, I know they were Jerries and all, but…”

  “Is your conscience bothering you? I should have known. Like I always told you, you think too much.”

  “One of Anna’s friends recently called me an egghead,” he said dryly. “Said I think too much.”

  “If the shoe fits… We did what we had to do. The Jerries started the fight. We had to finish it. Same with the Italians, and soon it will be the same with the Japs. To my mind, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Noah still couldn’t completely agree with that, so he didn’t say anything at all.

  Billie threw his hand out. “Hell, it’s the same in Chicago. Someone wants a fight, you give it to them. It’s like Al Capone said: you can get much further with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone. I usually hate Wops. Can’t trust them. But Capone got some things right. His problem was he thought he was bigger than everyone else. That’s what ended up doing him in.”

  In that moment, Noah knew Billie had killed before going to war. He’d suspected. If someone were to ask him how he knew, he couldn’t have said. It was a feeling. He’d seen guys puke after making their first kill or after a particularly bloody one. Billie’s eyes had almost gleamed after a kill, like an alley cat out hunting rats. Noah wouldn’t judge without knowing the circumstances. He’d known guys in the orphanage—older boys—who’d killed. He’d known when they were lying, bragging really, and he’d known when it was true. His street smarts had never failed him.

  “What are your plans for the next few days?” he asked.