Ed grinned from ear to ear. “A boy! Well, that’s something.” He put his hat back on his head. “Can I bring Opal round in the evening?”
“Of course! Ursula will be expecting you both.”
Kate walked with him out to the porch. Rather than look at him, she kept her eyes on the horizon. “Ed, I was thinking today might be a good day to get some of those supplies you’ve been talking about. You can take Gustav and Karl with you. I – I have a few things that I’d like Friedrich to take a look at.”
Still grinning, Ed nodded. “While I’m at it, might as well swing by the hardware store over in Greenfield and pick up a few things.”
“Greenfield? Won’t that be out of your way – ” And it hit her – Good God, Ed knows! And he’s playing along with me! The twinkle in his eyes confirmed it.
“We’ll most likely be gone the better part of the day,” he said. He also looked at the horizon, and pulled his hat down. “Even an old head like mine occasionally puts two and two together. Though it takes a while.”
Kate placed a hand on his arm and her eyes filled with gratitude. “You’ve always been a good friend to us, Ed. And a second father to Ursula.” Her voice cracked and she lifted the knitted goods. “I look forward to seeing you and Opal this evening.”
“Well, best be going.”
Ed walked down the porch stairs. All three prisoners waited for the news. Karl smiled in anticipation. Gustav finally asked, “Vell?”
Ed smiled proudly. “All’s vell! Come on, boys. We got our work cut out for us. Be gone most of the day. Mother and son need to rest.”
Friedrich’s knees buckled on hearing he had a son and again he gripped the side of the wagon.
Karl and Gustav began laughing and talking in German as they walked back to the truck. Friedrich’s eyes traveled to the upstairs window. He slowly turned to join the others.
Ed headed to the truck and spoke as casually as he could manage.
“Karl, you squeeze up front with Gustav. Not you, Friedrich,” he said, causing Friedrich to halt. “Kate needs you today. The water heater is making a funny sound or something. Go on.” He waved him over to the house, got in his truck with the others, and drove out onto the farm lane.
Friedrich stood frozen, an expression of confusion in his eyes. He looked from Kate to Ed’s departing truck, and back to Kate.
Kate opened the porch door. “Come inside.”
He walked up the porch stairs, trying to decipher the look on her face.
A tiny cry came from upstairs and tears shot to Friedrich’s eyes. He brought his hand to his mouth and turned away. He began to walk to the basement.
Kate placed a hand on his arm and smiled gently. “Go on upstairs. Your wife and son are waiting for you.”
Friedrich took a step back in utter surprise, then clasped her hand with both of his. “Danke!” He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Kate hummed as she put together a tray crowded with eggs, buttered toast, muffins, and coffee – for two. She took it upstairs and set it on the trunk at the foot of the bed.
Friedrich was kneeling beside the bed, one hand linked with Ursula’s, the other touching the blanket around his son. Friedrich’s cheeks were wet with tears though his smile couldn’t be any wider.
Ursula’s mouth trembled as she met her mother’s eyes.
Kate leaned over her grandson and beamed. Then she stroked Ursula’s hair. “I’ll try my hardest not to check up on you every ten minutes. Ed and the others will be gone for most of the day.” She turned to Friedrich. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
Kate then went out onto the front porch to enjoy the mild spring day, leaving the door open. She sat in the rocker, gazing out at the budding trees, the first green, new beginnings. Then she stretched her hands around the curved armrests and began to rock lightly. She looked up at the trees to see which bird was making that wonderful warbling. There – at the top of the ash tree. A robin singing its heart out. Lines from her bedside book of poetry that she hadn’t opened in years suddenly filled her mind. What was that poem? – “all’s right with the world” – something about “God’s in his heaven – all’s right with the world.” Kate smiled. For this spectacular moment, all was right with the world.
She wished her husband were there to share it with her. Then her eyes rested on the farm all around her – their farm – and she smiled. I suppose he is, she decided, and continued rocking.
Kate was brought back to the present by a burst of laughter from Jessica in the living room. The sweetness of memory shifted to ache – it was cold December, not gentle spring. The winter winds were blowing, the fields were white with snow.
She wanted to cup a protective hand around the past, to shield it from what was coming. An unspoken dread thickened the atmosphere of their home. Friedrich would be taken away soon. Every week they breathed a sigh a relief that another week had gone by without word. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted him to stay with Ursula and their son. Sorrow filled her face at the idea of the impending separation. She could scarcely imagine what Ursula must feel. She had tried to comfort her daughter and convince her that after he left, they would find out where he was, and would make contact. And would wait for him to return. Though in her heart, she knew that his return, if ever, would take years.
Jessica turned off the radio and came back into the kitchen. “There. All patched.” She handed the quilt to Kate. “It will keep someone warm.”
Kate inspected the embroidery and smiled. “Very nice, Jessica.” She placed it next to the pile of clothes.
Jessica stretched her legs in front of her and brushed at the worn knees of her dungarees. “One of the things I like best about teaching is that I can wear dresses.” She pulled out the front of her flannel shirt and frowned. Then she sat up and leaned forward on the table, her eyes brightening. “I’m thinking of dying the silk from the parachute red for the Christmas dance. Or do you think green would be nicer? I can’t decide.”
Eugene came down the stairs and into the kitchen, holding a pile of clothing. He handed a jacket to Kate, along with a few shirts and a pair of boots. “There. You happy, Jessica? That’s all I got.”
Jessica jumped up and hugged him. “Yes, I am happy.”
A horn tooted from outside, causing them to look up.
Eugene moved to the window and grabbed his flight jacket. “That’s Clem and Burly dropping off Clem’s truck.”
Jessica jumped to her feet. “You didn’t say they were coming – look at me!”
Eugene shook his head. “They don’t care about the appearance of a kid like you.” He walked out to the porch and greeted them.
Jessica slipped on her coat and followed Eugene. She waved at Burly as he shut off his truck and opened the door.
“Hey, Jess! Dropping off Clem’s truck for Friedrich to take a look at.”
“Hi, Burly. You’ll be coming to dinner tomorrow, won’t you?” She watched Clem drive his truck alongside the machine shed where Eugene was motioning for him to park.
Burly shoved his hands into his coat pocket. “Sure thing. Me and Shirley’ll drive Clem over. If his truck’s ready by then, he can drive it home.”
Jessica walked with Burly over to the machine shed where Clem and Eugene stood next to the truck.
“Hello, Clem. You’re looking well.” Jessica took a step towards him.
He gave a quiet hello and raised the hood of his truck.
Jessica stood next to him. “How’s Donny?”
Clem nodded. “He’s fine. I’ll tell him you asked about him.”
Ed came out of the machine shed with Friedrich and introduced him to Clem. Eugene kept his back to them and leaned on the fence talking with Burly.
Jessica saw that Clem was civil to Friedrich, and even shook his hand. She moved back to the porch steps, sat down, and watched Clem as he discussed the truck with Friedrich.
After a few minutes, Friedrich closed the hood, and said a few mo
re words to Clem. He then walked over to Gustav, just as Mr. Creight pulled up to take them back to camp.
Jessica waved goodbye to the POWs and walked over to Clem. “Well?”
Clem kept his eyes on the truck as he answered. “He thinks it just needs a tune-up. Says he should be able to do it tomorrow.” Without saying anything else, he walked over to Burly and Eugene.
Burly rubbed his hands together against the cold, got into his truck, and let it run. Clem and Eugene exchanged a few words as Clem opened the door to Burly’s truck.
Jessica waved after them. “See you all tomorrow!” She tried to catch Clem’s eye, but he looked away.
As Eugene came up the steps, Jessica smiled. “Friedrich will have Clem’s truck running like new.”
Eugene bristled at the pride she always showed when it came to the POWs. His eyes followed the truck as it drove down the farm lane. “Don’t be surprised if Clem doesn’t stay for dinner.”
Jessica opened her mouth. “I would be surprised. He knows we’re expecting him.” She tried to interpret his expression. “What?”
“Nothing. But it can take a guy some time to get used to things, after just coming back. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Other than being moody, you seem to have adjusted.”
“Like hell. One minute I’m fighting Germans, the next minute I find I’m related to them.” He glared over at the barn where Friedrich and Gustav stood talking with Ed. “And don’t tell me you didn’t know about it.”
Jessica knew better than to respond. She lifted her chin at the truck that was just turning onto the country road. “Clem will come.”
“To see Joe and to pick up his truck. Don’t you go pestering him.”
“I don’t pester people!”
“You’re still a kid to him, Jessica. Don’t be getting any ideas.”
“I’m not getting any ideas! And I’m almost eighteen!” But the only response from Eugene was the door as it banged shut. Jessica looked back out at the truck as it got smaller in the distance, and then ran up the stairs and into the house.
Chapter 5
Gabriel dashed out of school, his book strap slung over his shoulder, and sprinted down the sidewalks. He dodged a delivery man, wove in and around a few pedestrians, and just missed bumping into a mailman as he rounded a corner in his excitement to get to The Red String Curio Store.
When he pushed open the door, the little silver bell above it rang. He cast his eyes up at it and gave a short nod, as if the bell had personally greeted him. Then he smiled and took in the sounds and smells and liveliness of the shop. Christmas music played from the radio behind the counter, and the old grandfather clock in the back chimed. Several people browsed the aisles, searching for the rare and unusual. The proprietor, Mr. G, waved to him from the side of the store, where he and Junior were studying the empty frames on the wall, tilting their heads this way and that.
Gabriel stepped behind the counter and placed his books and coat on the bottom shelf beneath the cash register. Then he lifted his dark green shopkeeper’s apron from the row of hooks and secured it around his waist. Lastly, he tucked a small notebook into the front pocket of the apron, and slid a pencil behind his ear. He was ready for business.
Mr. G strolled over to the counter. “Greetings, Master Gabriel! Punctual, as usual.”
Junior trailed behind, his cane tapping against the wooden floor with every other step. He held a small frame at arm’s length, assessing the dull gold vines twining around the edges. He gave a decisive nod.
“This is the one,” Junior said to Gabriel, as if he had been in on the decision. “I see moonlight and dreams and long-buried wishes. Ideal for O’Shaughnessy.” He handed it to Gabriel and pulled on his long, gray beard – his Tennyson beard, as Dusty, another regular, referred to it. “Now, use your imagination, Gabriel, and tell me what you think.” He hooked his cane on the counter top and cleared his throat. Mr. G stood next to him in deep concentration, his knuckle crooked on his chin.
Gabriel divided his focus between the emptiness inside the frame and Junior’s recitation. The old man was a born performer, his voice rich and melodic, his gestures fluid and natural as he swept his arms to the ocean in his mind’s eye and lifted his gaze to the beauty of the moon.
We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
“That was real nice, Junior. I’ll add that poem to my General Knowledge notebook.” Gabriel ran his fingers over the wooden frame and positioned it in front of him. “And this is the frame for it. I can see it and it will be the perfect match.” Gabriel opened his notebook and Junior obliged him by reciting the lines again. At the last word, Gabriel added an emphatic period.
“There’s more, of course,” said Junior, pulling on his beard again. “But to my mind, the first stanza’s the best. Besides, the rest won’t fit.”
Mr. G lifted the frame, nodded in agreement, and handed it back to Gabriel. “An excellent choice, indeed! Gabriel, can you wrap this for Junior? I must attend to Mrs. Cranford. I’ve left her deciding between three lace tablecloths.”
“Sure.” Gabriel soon had the frame wrapped in brown paper tied with the store’s trademark red string. “There you go!”
“Should have it ready next week.” Junior tried to flex his gnarled, arthritic hands, tucked the package under his arm and thanked Gabriel. He turned around at the door and tipped his hat. “Then it’s on to Shakespeare. The sonnets. Perfect for holiday gifts, don’t you think?”
“And they’ll fit in almost any frame!” said Gabriel.
Junior gave him a wink in understanding and left the shop.
Gabriel waved goodbye and wended his way down the labyrinthine aisles. He stopped to assist an elderly customer, Mrs. Peasley, find just the right gift for her husband. After listening to her describe her husband’s interests, Gabriel tapped his cheek a few times. Then he held up his index finger and led her to a display of items related to coin collecting, and another section on birdwatching.
The next hour passed agreeably for Gabriel. He heard the cash register ring with sales, accompanied by Mr. G’s hearty exclamations to customers and their appreciative remarks. The little bell tinkled in the background as customers came and left.
Mrs. Peasley finally decided on the items for her husband and Gabriel carried them to the counter for her. He froze in his tracks when he heard Mr. G say, “Greetings, Tommy! Came to see the rocking chair, eh? There’s Gabriel, over by the assortment of globes.”
Gabriel stood rooted to the floor as Tommy walked up to him. “Hi, Tommy. I – I thought you were coming tomorrow.”
“I was at the soda fountain with some of the fellas so I decided to look at the rocker today.” He took a step closer, wondering at the apron Gabriel was wearing, the pencil behind his ear, and the items in his arms. “What are you doing?”
Mrs. Peasley patted Gabriel on his shoulder. “Thank you, young man. I couldn’t have made up my mind without you. Chester will be delighted.” She held up the items for Tommy to see. “An illustrated Audubon book – and binoculars! I can hardly wait until Christmas to give them to him.” She gave a small chuckle as she headed to the counter. Then she turned around. “I’ll be back next week. Let’s see what we can find for sister Lobelia. She collects bluebirds. And bells. Small ones.”
Gabriel whipped out his notebook and jotted down the items. “I’ll start my search today.”
Tommy’s eyes widened. “You’re working here?”
Gabriel winced and nodded.
“And you didn’t tell Mom? You’re in big trouble.”
“I couldn’t tell her. She wouldn’t like it. But I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m sure of it!”
“That’s not the point, Gabriel.”
Mr. G walked up to them. “Now, shall I show you my collection of rocking chairs? All in excellent condition, I assure you.”
“Sure.” Tommy gave Gabriel a sidelong glance and followed the store owner.
Mr. G made a left, a right, and another left. “Here we go. One, two, and three.” He placed his hand on each one, setting them rocking.
“This is the one that caught Gabriel’s attention. A lovely Victorian. In rich, deep oak.” Mr. G hooked his thumbs behind his red suspenders and rocked on his heels. “I’ll let you boys try them out. Just holler if you need anything.”
Tommy looked at the rockers, then back at Gabriel. “How long have you been working here?”
“About a month. Or two. It depends how you count. It just kind of happened.”
“Jobs don’t just kind of happen, Gabriel.”
“It did, honestly. I like to stop by now and then, just to look around, and to talk to Mr. G and his friends. Junior teaches me how to do calligraphy. And Dusty shows me pictures of the Great Pyramids and the Sphinx in some of the books here. And Mr. G teaches me how to find the marks on pottery to tell where they’re from. I brought Henry in and now he’s a regular too. It’s fun, Tommy. And I’m not lying – it is my project.” He patted his trusty notebook.
“But it’s not a school project.”
“It’s related. It’s about learning things. Mom would approve of that. Mr. G has one of those colossal dictionaries on a tall stand – you’ve seen it, right by the counter. When it’s slow we take turns discovering new words.”
“Colossal,” Tommy echoed with a shake of his head. “So that’s why you’ve been sounding like an old man lately.” He scrunched up his mouth, giving the situation some thought. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Aw, Tommy, give me a break. I love it here! Like you love working at Mancetti’s.”
“I’m stocking shelves, sweeping, dusting. What are you doing here? Learning words?”
“Sometimes I dust and sweep. But mostly I help people find things. They get happy. Like when we help the wounded soldiers at the hospital write letters or tell them jokes. Please don’t say anything, Tommy. At least not yet. Wait until after Christmas.”
Christmastime 1945 Page 5
