Christmastime 1945

by Linda Mahkovec

  Eugene took the receiver, covering his other ear to hear better. “Speak up – I can’t hear you – I can’t hear – Well, if you’d both stop talking and singing at the same time then maybe I could hear you.” Eugene’s eye opened wide and he threw his head back in a long roll of laughter. “Mom! Mom, get over here!”

  Kate looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

  “Mom!” he said, doubling over in howls, and wiping his eyes. “It’s your sons!”

  Kate jumped up and ran to the receiver. “Jimmy? Paul? Is that you? My God, you’re together? Where are you? Why didn’t you tell me – ” She started to laugh, then cry, listening to them share a phone. “Ursula, Jessica! Come quick!”

  They all crowded around the telephone receiver, trying to make sense of the noisy fragments. “Kansas City? They’re in Kansas City!” She handed the phone to Eugene and lifted her apron to dry her eyes.

  Eugene took the phone, smiling in joy as he listened to them. “Only you two could pull that off. Yes, we’re all here waiting for you. Hey, you’ll get to meet my girl, Edna! I’m picking her up – What? a double wedding? Give me a chance to ask her first!” His expression changed to one of urgency. “Well, get going – don’t you dare miss it. We’ll be at the station tomorr – !” He stared at the receiver.

  Kate, Jessica, and Ursula looked from the phone to his face.

  “Their train is being called,” he said, still laughing and wiping at his cheeks. “Damn, I miss those two.”

  Jessica took the receiver, listened, and placed it back on the phone. “What’d they say? I could barely hear them. Are they really in Kansas City? That’s means they’ll be here tomorrow!”

  They all gathered round the table while Eugene spoke. “Apparently, they bumped into each other by chance in San Diego and finagled their tickets to be on the same train. They’ve been trying to call us from stations along the way, but the lines for the telephones were always too long. Snow storms are causing major delays, and several trains have been canceled. But their train is leaving soon. They’ll be here tomorrow!”

  “I just can’t believe it,” cried Kate. “Tomorrow! After all this time of worrying. And in time for Christmas!” She embraced Ursula. “You see? Things will work out. All will be well. Before you know it, Friedrich will be here again.” She turned to Eugene. “Call Ed and let him know. Then call the Bloomfields. Jessica, we’ll have to make sure we have everything for a feast! We’ll make a big batch of eggnog.”

  “And a plum pudding with rum sauce!” Jessica heard a truck pull up outside and ran to the window. “That’s Clem! Wait ‘til he hears!” she cried, dashing out the door.

  Frankie’s cries could be heard from Kate’s bedroom. Ursula rose to her feet. “I’ll get him. I’ll wash up a bit before coming down.”

  Kate walked with her down the hall. Her joy changed to heartache as Ursula picked up Frankie and held him close, quietly weeping.

  “Don’t despair. We’ll find a way to bring Friedrich back.”

  Ursula nodded and went upstairs with Frankie.

  *

  Late that night, Ursula stood at her bedroom window gazing down into the farmyard. No more would she search for Friedrich’s handsome face out there. No more would there be a chance of his arriving to the farm. Now when she looked out the windows, she would see only the farmyard, the fields. They would no longer hold the possibility that her beloved might suddenly appear and raise his eyes to her window.

  She lifted the corner of her shawl to wipe her eyes. She looked out at the emptiness and sought out the points of lights in the darkness. The light over the barn door casting a yellow patch in the farmyard. A few lights from the neighboring farms across the fields. Headlights from a lone car or truck traveling the country roads. In the distance, she saw the tiny lights of a train threading its way through the countryside, and heard the long, plaintive pull of the whistle.

  Now the waiting begins, she told herself. Now she must be strong and believe that all will be well. Three of her brothers had survived the war. They would go on to live full, happy lives. For much of two years, she had been fortunate enough to have Friedrich close to her, while so many people had their loved ones torn from them.

  Now it was her turn. There would be sleepless nights, and she would collapse from time to time, and cry herself to sleep. Then she would touch her earrings that he had kissed, read his letters, and gaze upon their child, and gather up her strength again.

  She had decided long ago that, when the time came, she would be strong and brave and not cast a gloom on the others. She would accept the love from her family, grateful for all they had done. She would join them as they all sat in front of the beautiful Christmas tree, and she would see the love in the eyes of Eugene for Edna, and in Jessica’s for Clem. And in her mother’s eyes for her children. Soon the house would be full of life again, and the sad years would be behind them. And she would wait. And check the mail and write long letters. She would store up memories to tell Friedrich for the day he returned.

  Ursula raised her eyes to the near-full moon, so like the night two years ago when Friedrich had brought her beauty – the tree below her window glowing with candles. A soft smile came to her lips as she realized how much of Friedrich was still there with her – imbued in the landscape, in the seasons, in Christmas. In the sweet baby who looked so much like him.

  Ursula walked to where Frankie lay fast asleep and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, my love,” she softly said. “We will be here, waiting for you.”

  Chapter 19

  In the late afternoon, Tommy sat deep in thought with his math book opened before him, and Gabriel was stretched out on the couch reading. Lillian rocked Charlotte on her lap while she spoke to her sister on the telephone. Big, soft snowflakes drifted past the windows.

  “Annette? Hello?” She hung up the receiver. “That’s twice we lost our connection. I suppose I should get started on dinner, anyway.” She rocked back and forth a few times.

  Tommy bit the pencil eraser. “Mom?”

  “Yes, Tommy?”

  “I’ve been thinking – I think I’d like to be called Tom now, instead of Tommy. What do you think?”

  She rested her eyes on him – his voice deepening, the faintest shadow on his upper lip, his long limbs – and felt a pang of sorrow that her children were growing up so fast. “I think it’s a good idea.”

  “I asked Amy and she thought it was a good idea too.” He sat up straighter and smiled as he continued his homework.

  Lillian let out a deep sigh. “I’m reluctant to leave my rocking chair. I don’t know how I ever managed without one.”

  Tommy looked up. “Charlotte sure likes it.”

  “I bet Dad will like to rock her in it too,” said Gabriel.

  “I’m sure he will,” said Lillian, rising to her feet. She held Charlotte in one arm and hummed and sang as she moved about the kitchen. “Haven’t felt like this, my dear, since you went away, it’s been a long, long time.”

  Lilian saw that Gabriel had gotten up and was standing in front of the calendar in the kitchen.

  “Are you finished with your book, Gabriel?”

  “No. I was just thinking – if Dad is on a ship in the Atlantic, then there’s a chance that he could still get here in time for Christmas.”

  “Not unless he’s a or two day out,” said Tommy.

  Lillian suppressed her worry about Charles. It was Christmastime, and she wouldn’t let the boys see her fear. She stood next to Gabriel and glanced at the calendar. “I’d say there’s a chance that he could still get here in December. But even if it’s January, we’ll have a belated Christmas. This year we’ll have two Christmases. One starting tomorrow with Christmas Eve, and one when your father arrives.”

  Gabriel smiled, but kept his eyes on the calendar, estimating possible arrival dates.

  When the telephone rang, Tommy answered it. “Hello?”

  “That’ll be Annette calling back,” said Lilli
an, going back to the living room.

  Tommy shrugged and handed the receiver to Lillian. “It’s for Dad.”

  Lillian lifted it to her ear, puzzled. “Hello? This is Mrs. Drooms. Yes. Who?”

  She shifted Charlotte to her other hip and blinked as she tried to make sense of the words coming from the receiver. “I’m sorry?” She angled the telephone receiver out so that Tommy and Gabriel could also hear. A young man’s voice came through.

  “Sergeant Stokes. Little Wheel, they call me. I promised I’d telephone to let you know. I was in line for over an hour, then just when it’s my turn, this private runs up and begs for the phone booth to call his mother, and well, I didn’t have the heart to say no.”

  Lillian smiled. “That was very kind of you, Sergeant Stokes. You said you’re calling for Charles? Charles Drooms?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I mean, No. That is, I’m calling for him. My buddies and I wanted to thank him again. We were on the same train from – ”

  Lillian held the receiver away from her ear as the young man began hollering.

  “Hold your horses! I waited an hour for this spot – all right, all right. Just a minute. Let me finish!”

  Tommy and Gabriel covered their mouths, laughing.

  Lillian looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, but – ” She raised her voice. “I can barely hear you. Charles isn’t here, I’m afraid – he’s in London. London! Would you like for me to take a message for you?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, ma’am. He asked me to call to let you know that he’s on his way – back off, bud – it’s my turn!”

  Lillian’s brow creased in frustration. “On his way – from where?”

  “Penn Station. I thought by now he’d be home and – ”

  Lillian stared at the receiver, dropped it, and ran to the window. She handed Charlotte to Tommy, pushed up the window, and leaned out. Then, looking in the other direction, she saw a tall figure carrying a duffle bag. She sucked in her breath, peered closer, and screamed – “CHARLES!” The figure stopped, looked up, and met her gaze. “CHARLES!” she yelled again and dashed out of the apartment.

  Tommy ran to the window and looked out. “DAD!”

  Gabriel was now trying to get to the window. Tommy shoved Charlotte into his arms and bolted out the door.

  Gabriel leaned out and spotted Charles. “DAD!” He looked around and, realizing there was no one to hand Charlotte to, he grabbed her blanket and ran out of the apartment with her.

  When Charles saw Lillian running towards him, he dropped his duffle bag and ran to her. They met in an embrace, both of them crying and laughing and kissing and talking over one another.

  “How is it possible? I thought you were still in London!”

  “Didn’t you get my telegram?”

  “Dad!” cried Tommy, running up and hugging him.

  “Tommy!” Charles squeezed him, while Lillian looked on through smiles and tears.

  “Dad!” Gabriel came running, holding a baby. “Dad! You’re home.” Gabriel ran into his open arms. “Dad, this is Charlotte!”

  Charles’s smile dropped, and his mouth opened in awe at the sweet baby.

  Lillian laughed and pulled the blanket away from Charlotte’s face so that Charles could see her. “Your daughter.” She lifted her up for Charles to hold.

  Charles cradled her tenderly, and gazed at her in wonder. He broke into a smile. “My daughter!” He kissed her forehead, and then kissed Lillian again, and turned to Tommy and Gabriel. “And my sons. Look at you – you’re both a good head taller!”

  “You’re back, Dad!” cried Tommy.

  Gabriel squeezed Charles. “You’re really here! You made it for Christmas!”

  Charles smiled down at Charlotte, and wrapped his other arm around Lillian, kissing her again and again. Then, smiling down at his family, his heart bursting with love, he gave a wide smile. “Let’s go home!”

  “Yes,” cried Lillian, her eyes shining in happiness. “Let’s go home!”

  Epilogue

  July 1948

  A beautiful summer day spread across Kate’s farm. A light breeze carried the fragrance of freshly mowed hay, honeysuckle, and roses – a medley of green and floral scents released by the sun’s warmth. White butterflies flitted and landed among the flowers, along with a few dragonflies that briefly hovered and then disappeared.

  A perfect day, thought Lillian. She stood in the shade of the old oak tree, using her watercolors to capture the profusion of hollyhocks that grew alongside the barn. She swished the paintbrush in the jar of water, deciding on which pigments to capture the deep rose-colored blooms – there was a hint of warmth to them. She would need to add a touch of ochre…

  The sound of laughter drew her attention to the porch. Kate, Charles, and Edna sat with glasses of lemonade, watching Eugene pull Frankie and Charlotte in the red wagon. The two children shrieked in delight as Eugene sped up and then slowed down, over and over. Edna rocked a baby in her arms, and Kate bounced Eugene’s older daughter on her lap.

  Lillian was almost tempted to start another painting of the farmhouse, so struck was she by its charm. The white of the house, the green of the shutters and shade trees. Kate’s yellow, blue, and orange flowers lining the sidewalk and fence.

  She was glad they were staying a full two weeks – there were so many things she wanted to paint. She caught Charles’s eye and smiled. They had arrived two days earlier and were already enjoying the slower pace of the farm. Tom and Gabriel were out in the back watching their uncles Paul and Clem put on the final touches to a much-needed addition to the farmhouse for Eugene and Edna and their two children.

  The house had grown smaller. Besides Kate, Ursula and Frankie, and Eugene and his family, Paul still lived at home, though he was going to be married in the fall. He and his fiancée had purchased a two-story house in town, just a few blocks from where Jessica and Clem lived with Clem’s father, Donny, and Nathaniel.

  There was Clem now, with his small son on his shoulders. Nathaniel, with his wide green eyes and wavy brown hair, was a miniature version of Clem. They walked to where Jessica and Donny leaned over the garden, picking cucumbers and tomatoes. When Jessica stood and reached up to kiss Clem, it was clear that they were expecting another child. There was no hiding the love between them.

  Lillian mixed the colors and dabbed at the painting. This was their third visit to the farm since the war. Each visit was an indulgence in wide skies, long walks along the country road, and a trove of sketches and paintings that she finished working on back in New York City. And each visit included the introduction of a new grandchild or two of Kate’s.

  Lillian was looking forward to seeing Jimmy and his family again, later in the day at the town’s summer festival. Jimmy had twin boys, a baby girl, and another on the way. He and Gladys had purchased a farm a few miles away and were frequently at Kate’s. Kate had told Lillian that she loved being a grandmother and couldn’t be any happier, though Lillian had detected a hint of sorrow that briefly darkened Kate’s eyes. Perhaps thinking about Francis. Or Ursula.

  There was still no word about Friedrich. There had been only a handful of letters from him in ’46 and even fewer in ’47. He had been moved to various POW mining camps in France, but there had been no word from him for almost a year. Apparently, there had been a terrible explosion at the last mine where he worked and several prisoners went missing afterwards. Escaped or killed, no one knew.

  Charles had been in contact with the Red Cross and several offices at the War Department trying to track him down, and recently had cause for hope. A man who fit the description of Friedrich had been recuperating at a hospital soon after France released the last of their prisoners in the spring. But that trail, like so many others, had gone cold.

  There was no confirmed information about Friedrich. Had he survived the explosion? Had he been wounded, or had he escaped? Was he still lying in hospital? Had he been moved to Germany? When the letters stopped comi
ng, Ursula had wanted to go and search for him, but Eugene had pointed out the futility of her wandering around countries where she didn’t speak the language. Where would she look – in France, Germany? Somewhere else?

  Lillian sighed at the situation, well understanding the agony of waiting. She added a few more leaves to the hollyhocks, and then rinsed her brush. She saw Ursula strolling up the country road, returning from one of her solitary walks. Even from afar, there was an air of wistfulness about her. Lillian watched her pause to inhale the honeysuckle covering the fence – she picked one of the small yellow flowers, pinched off the bottom, and tasted the drop of nectar at its base. In her hand she held a bunch of wildflowers.

  Before turning onto the farm lane, Ursula stopped to check the mail. She sifted through the letters, and hung her head for a moment. Then she glanced up at the puffy white clouds before walking towards the house.

  “Mommy!” cried Frankie, running down the lane to her. She scooped him up in her arms and kissed his cheek. Then he wriggled free and ran back to Charlotte and the wagon.

  Ursula walked over to the oak tree. “Hello, Aunt Lillian.” She tilted her head to study the painting. “How lovely.”

  As always, Lillian was struck by Ursula’s beauty that only seemed to deepen with the years. She wore a dark blue and purple floral dress that caught the color of her eyes and flowed around her slim figure. Her long hair blew in the summer breeze, revealing her amethyst earrings.

  “I’ve tried to capture their charm,” said Lillian, standing back to view the canvas.

  “Simple hollyhocks,” said Ursula. She offered to hold the painting while Lillian gathered her supplies and collapsed the easel. “You’ve captured them exactly – and yet added something. They appear even more beautiful. A piece of summer to be treasured.”

  Lillian smiled at the comment. “I’ve always loved hollyhocks. An old-fashioned flower. Always leaning towards the sun and blooming in such happiness.” She looked again at the tall stalks abloom with color, tapering off to small round buds. Lush green leaves nestled flowers of pale pink with dark centers, soft yellow, purple, white, bright pink. “Quaint and lovely. Especially growing against the barn like this.”