Christmastime 1945

by Linda Mahkovec

  Lillian turned her head to hide her smile.

  As they passed the brownstone where Mickey and Billy lived, she heard the second-floor window open and saw Billy waving at them.

  “Hey, Gabriel! I got the stuff!” He made several gestures with his arms, pointing, and motioning for Gabriel to come up, until Mickey appeared next to Billy and pulled him inside. Mickey waved at them and then closed the window.

  “What was that all about?” Lillian asked Gabriel.

  “Well…”

  Lillian leaned down and sniffed at him. “You and Billy better not be smoking cigarettes again!”

  “No! I told you I just did it once and didn’t like it.”

  “What ‘stuff’ is he talking about?”

  “Can I go and see? Could be something for my project.”

  Lillian glanced up to the window, then down at Gabriel. “All right. But I want you home for dinner.”

  “Sure, Mom,” Gabriel called over his shoulder as he ran off.

  “Do you know what that was all about, Tommy? Is there anything I need to be worried about?”

  “Nah. That’s just Gabriel being Gabriel. You don’t have to worry about him, Mom. He would never do anything – unethical.”

  Lillian gave a puzzled look at Tommy’s choice of word. “No, I don’t think he would. But he’s been acting differently lately. I’m a little worried that he might be feeling left out. I haven’t been spending as much time with him since Charlotte was born. Or you,” Lillian said, placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

  “You don’t have to worry about that, Mom. We’re not little kids anymore. Besides, Gabriel’s different. Sometimes I think – ”

  Lillian looked over at Tommy. “What? What do you think?”

  He pinched his eyebrows in thought. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think – even though I’m older than Gabriel, he’s strong, in a way that I’m not.”

  “Why, what do you mean, Tommy?” Lillian stopped, surprised at his words.

  “In a good way. He just plows ahead and knows that things will work out. He isn’t afraid of things.” Tommy twisted his mouth, knowing he wasn’t explaining himself very well.

  They continued walking down the sidewalk. “Can you give me an example of what you mean?”

  “Like at the hospital. I watch him sometimes with the wounded soldiers. Even the quiet ones get happy when Gabriel is there. He gets them to laugh and talk.”

  “But so do you, Tommy.”

  “It’s different. When I help a patient write a letter or hold one for him to read when – you know – they can’t hold the letter or see, I feel so bad and I try so hard not to look at – the missing part. But Gabriel doesn’t even seem to notice. He talks to all the men like there’s nothing wrong with them. Like it’s just a part of them. I think they like that.”

  “That’s very perceptive of you, Tommy.” Lillian mulled over his words. “Everyone connects with people in different ways. But you’re right. Gabriel has always been very accepting of people. He’s always been at ease with all kinds of people.”

  Tommy began to crack his knuckles. “Do you think I’m helping them? I know I’m not making them better – sometimes even the doctors can’t. But do you think I’m helping them?”

  “Of course, you are, Tommy. You have a quiet way of bringing them comfort and encouragement. It’s good for the patients to have a variety of personalities around them. You and Gabriel, Henry and I, and the other volunteers all bring something different to them. But I’ve observed the patients and I think they all feel especially safe with you.”

  Tommy gave his half smile. “I hope so.”

  Lillian’s heart clenched. Sometimes she was overpowered by the love she felt for her children.

  When they reached their brownstone, Lillian gently lifted Charlotte so as not to wake her. Tommy ran ahead and opened the door for her. He then brought the carriage inside, put it under the stairs, and checked the letter box.

  Lillian held her breath as Tommy sorted through the cards and bills. “Anything from Charles?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, Mom.”

  “Well, with everyone sending letters home…”

  “Here are some Christmas cards,” Tommy said cheerfully. “A card from Aunt Annette. And look – here’s a letter from Jessica.”

  Lillian had to smile. Jessica was turning out to be the letter writer in Kate’s family. “Oh good, I look forward to reading them.”

  Tommy gathered the groceries and books and followed Lillian upstairs.

  Inside the apartment, Tommy waited for Lillian to put Charlotte in the bassinette. “Want me to do anything for dinner?”

  “You can put the casserole in the oven to warm – that would be a big help. I think I’ll make myself a cup of tea.”

  Tommy turned on the oven and set the casserole inside while Lillian put the groceries away and made a cup of tea. Once she was resting on the couch with her letters, Tommy sat next to her. Then he jumped up and turned on the lamp. The apartment filled with a golden glow.

  “Ahh. How cozy! Thank you, Tommy.” She pulled the afghan over her legs and smiled out at the room.

  “Do you mind if I go see Mickey? Then I’ll bring Gabe home with me.”

  “Of course not. Dinner won’t be ready for another hour or so.”

  “You sure? Do you need anything?”

  “No, everything’s all set. Dinner is in the oven, Charlotte is sleeping – and I have my tea and letters.”

  “Swell. See you, Mom!” Tommy grabbed his coat from the hall tree, and ran down the stairs.

  Lillian opened the letter from Jessica and a few photographs spilled out. There was Jessica smiling widely, standing outside the school. What a lovely girl – she appeared a little older, but still so sweet and innocent. Another photo of Kate on the front porch – her smile didn’t hide the worry in her eyes. Lillian knew that until all her sons were home, Kate wouldn’t have any peace.

  Lillian lifted a photo of Ursula holding her baby. My God, she was more beautiful than ever. Her direct gaze into the camera revealed an inner sorrow. No one had mentioned the fact that Friedrich was the baby’s father, but Lillian had pieced together bits of information that had trickled in through the letters – that Ursula had married last Christmas, the baby had been born in the spring, cryptic hints from Kate that when the war was over and things had settled down, she would tell Lillian more. And the letters from Ursula, speaking her heart without ever using Friedrich’s name. Lillian understood that they were not at liberty to put anything in writing.

  Ursula had written a few letters about how happy she was with her baby, that she was so grateful the war was over and that her brothers would be home in the coming months. And that maybe soon her life would begin in earnest. There was the unspoken hope that with the war over, she and Friedrich could live openly as husband and wife. Ursula had mentioned that she expected to be temporarily separated from her husband because of the war, and that when he finally returned, they would perhaps move to Chicago where he could find work.

  Lillian took a sip of tea and looked out at the empty fireplace. That had been in the summer. Ursula’s letters had grown infrequent, and the optimism was no longer there.

  She unfolded Jessica’s letter and read that Eugene was slowly adjusting to civilian life, and that Paul and Jimmy were on their way home from the Pacific. Jessica wrote about the challenges and rewards of teaching, and commented on how the town had changed with so many boys and men returning home. She ended with the hope that perhaps this was the war to end all wars.

  Lillian smiled at the young woman’s words. That sentiment was fueling the pervasive euphoria – evil had been defeated. Fascism was shattered. Nazism was destroyed. But Lillian couldn’t rouse her earlier optimism. Not after these four years and with the news that was coming out about the horrors that had taken place. She felt it as a stain on her own soul – the knowledge that human nature was so much worse than she had ever believed. She feared tha
t the dark force was like a geyser – erupting into violence and then retreating underground. With the pressure always building for another burst of evil.

  Lillian looked down at Jessica’s words and felt protective of that youthful optimism. In spite of everything, Lillian wanted to believe that the nurturing of such a hopeful view might, one day, bring it about.

  She thought of Charles, and worried about the effects of two world wars on him. There couldn’t possibly be another one in his lifetime – could there?

  All she wanted was to hold him. Again, there was the almost unbearable ache, the fear that something would happen to him. After all, President Roosevelt hadn’t lived to see the end of the war. And many soldiers had been killed just days before the war ended. Life could be cruelly ironic.

  She buried her face in her hands, haunted by the image from the recurring nightmare she’d been having. That Charles’s ship had been hit by a torpedo. And he was thrown into the dark waters, floating away from her…

  She refused to look at that image. Charles would make it home – and she would never let him go. Lillian rose to her feet, wanting to keep busy. She went to the kitchen and began to make a salad for dinner. She turned on the radio as she bustled about the kitchen, humming along with the music. Her mind filled with Charles and she found herself smiling as she imagined their long-awaited embrace.

  Chapter 8

  Ursula stood at the living room window in the late afternoon. Sometimes she felt that her life was being lived while looking through windows – watching, waiting, hoping.

  She saw Eugene wave goodbye to Ed as he drove off. They had tended to the animals all day and made a few repairs to the grain bin, while Friedrich worked on Clem’s truck. Ursula suddenly became aware of how quiet it was. Gustav had not come to the farm today, and Mr. Creight hadn’t yet arrived to take Friedrich back to camp. She had just put Frankie down for his nap, and her mother and Jessica were busy in the kitchen with last minute preparations for the dinner party. Her heart began to quicken – Friedrich was alone.

  Ursula listened as Eugene came inside and sat at the kitchen table. But when Jessica offered him a cup of coffee, he declined, saying that he was going to shower. Ursula heard him go up the stairs – she could hardly believe her good fortune.

  She pulled her sweater tight and ran out to the machine shed. Friedrich had just stepped inside and was putting away the tools when Ursula called out his name and ran to him.

  At first, he was fearful and hesitated in embracing her.

  “It’s all right. They’re all inside. But we don’t have long.”

  They held each other tightly, neither of them speaking. Then Friedrich sat down on the bench by the door and pulled Ursula onto his lap. He cradled her in his arms and kissed her face, her hair, her hands, her lips.

  “Oh my God, it’s been weeks since I held you, Friedrich!”

  He looked around and then took her hand. “Ursula, listen to me.”

  Her face tightened at the seriousness of his tone.

  “Gustav is going to be moved back to the base camp. Soon.”

  She stiffened. “Are you sure?”

  “We are never sure. But one of the camp administrators told him that. Back to Camp Ellis, and then transferred out west somewhere to another camp. They are closing the branch camps. My time here is short.”

  Ursula shook her head. “No, Friedrich. The camp is fuller than ever, and they need you because of your English. To help process all the prisoners. They won’t send you away. Not any time soon, at least.”

  “We don’t know what they will do, Ursula. Everything is changing quickly now.”

  She stood and began to pace. “I was so sure it wouldn’t happen until spring or summer.” She sat back next to him. “We’ll have several months, surely.”

  Friedrich saw the tentative hope in her eyes. “We must be prepared, my love.”

  She passionately embraced him. “I can’t bear it. I can’t bear to think you will leave me.”

  They both jumped to their feet when they heard a truck driving up the lane.

  Ursula went to the entrance. “It’s Burly.”

  Friedrich embraced her one more time. “I will try to find out more information. But nothing is certain anymore.” They separated, but Friedrich held onto Ursula’s hand. “We must speak, Ursula. About what will happen when – ”

  She kissed his words away and ducked out the back door. Then she leaned against the shed and tried to steady her breath. She couldn’t think about it. The only way she could face his leaving was to push it out several months.

  Burly gave a quick toot on his horn announcing his arrival.

  While Ursula was outside, Frankie had begun to cry. Kate now held him as she tried to turn down the potatoes that were boiling over. “Ursula! Jessica!”

  Eugene walked in, his hair still wet from his shower. Kate shoved Frankie into his arms. “Take him! He didn’t sleep a wink. I have to tend to dinner and the girls are getting dressed.”

  Eugene scowled and held the baby at arm’s length. He searched for a place to put him and walked with him into the living room. He sat on the couch and set Frankie next to him.

  Frankie pulled himself up and leaned against Eugene. Then he smiled and grabbed at Eugene’s mouth.

  Eugene jerked his head back. “Cut that out!”

  Frankie laughed and tried it again.

  “I said – Aw hell, come here.” He positioned Frankie next to the couch. “You’re always trying to walk. Use this,” he said patting the edge of the couch. Frankie tried to balance himself and walked sideways holding onto the couch, then fell. Eugene stood next to him. “If you’re going to walk, then walk. Not like that.”

  Frankie babbled in earnest as he tried again to pull himself along the couch.

  Eugene held out two fingers for Frankie to hold. “Come on. You can do it.” He walked backwards slowly as Frankie lurched forward one step at a time, prattling in delight. “You see? Good! There you go – ”

  “Frankie?” Ursula, always afraid that Frankie had crawled into mischief, rushed into the living room – and halted when she saw Eugene with him.

  Eugene’s scowl reappeared. He lifted Frankie and handed him to Ursula. “Here. Take him.” He left the room abruptly and was soon outside greeting Burly and Clem.

  Jessica threw a jacket over her yellow and blue floral dress and went outside to join them.

  “Hi, Burly. Hello, Clem.” She turned to Burly. “Where’s Shirley?”

  “Hey, Jess,” said Burly. “She’s coming later with Joe and Sue Ellen. They’re fussing over a cake that’s still cooling.”

  Jessica flashed a smile to Clem, but he looked away. Yet every time she turned towards him, she caught him looking at her. She felt encouraged and couldn’t keep from smiling.

  “Thought we’d come early and check out Clem’s truck while your POW is still here.” Burly and Clem walked over to where Friedrich stood. He had propped open the hood of the truck and was listening to the engine running, using a cloth to dab at and polish a few places.

  Clem looked inside and showed his surprise. “It’s never sounded this good. Or looked this clean.”

  Friedrich gave a slight shrug as if to say it wasn’t much.

  “What do I owe you?” Clem reached for his wallet, but Friedrich put up his palm.

  Burly gave a light chuckle and slapped Friedrich on the back. “The only money these boys get is script.”

  Clem took a step back. “But I can’t accept – ”

  Eugene walked up. “No need, Clem. That’s his job.” He walked over to Burly. “Come on inside. We’ll wait for the others where it’s warm.” He led the way to the farmhouse.

  Friedrich lowered the hood and used the cloth to wipe his hands.

  “Much obliged,” said Clem, offering his hand to Friedrich. “I can see that you put more effort into it than you had to. Thank you.”

  Friedrich shook his hand. “Let me know if you have any problems with i
t.”

  Mr. Creight was just turning into the lane. Friedrich hurried back into the machine shed and stepped out the back door, his eyes going to Ursula’s window. There she stood with Frankie. Friedrich gazed up at them, his heart filled with longing, until Mr. Creight’s horn forced him away.

  “Bye, Friedrich!” Jessica called out to him. She remained with Clem, who had just turned off his truck. His eyes followed Creight’s departing truck.

  “That’s not right,” said Clem. “He did work for me and I should pay him.”

  “But you can’t, Clem. It’s not allowed. He fixed it, right?” asked Jessica. She leaned forward so that he would have to look at her. Their eyes met briefly.

  Clem nodded. “He must have spent all day cleaning it and changing out the parts.”

  “He did. He likes working on things. You’ll need your truck now that you’re back, won’t you?”

  Jessica hoped he would respond with an invitation, but she felt that perhaps he was shy. Clem hesitated, but remained silent. Then he looked away, down the road. “Here comes Joe now.” He started to move away.

  “Clem!” Jessica said, taking his elbow. “I have something for you. Here.” She handed him a photograph of her taken at her graduation.

  He held it, studying it for a few moments. “Nice picture.”

  “Thought you might like to have it. To remind you that I’m not a kid anymore.” She stood before him, smiling expectantly.

  He looked at her and turned the picture over. He saw the words To Clem, from Jessica. He tucked it in his pocket and spoke quietly.

  “You passing around your photograph to all the fellas?”

  Jessica’s eyes widened and a jolt of red shot to her cheeks. “I haven’t given it to anyone! But if you don’t want it – ” She made a grab for it, but he had already turned away to catch up with Eugene and Burly. Joe Madden drove up the lane with Sue Ellen and Shirley and parked next to the barn. Clem waited with the others on the porch for them.

  Jessica spun around, regretting her offer. What had she been thinking! Of course, he wasn’t interested in her. Still, it was an unkind thing he said.