by Pam Jenoff
“He should have been here by now,” Mrs. Connally fretted, shaken by her neighbor’s experience. Two more hours seemed unbearable. I walked outside to get some fresh air, staring at the house next door with its service flag hanging limply. Though I did not know the Dennison boy who had graduated before I came to Southern, I could not begin to imagine his family’s grief. An icy rain, almost sleet, began to fall. I shivered and drew my cardigan more tightly around me.
I looked up to see Liam walking toward the house, his gait a bit unsteady. I started forward. “Hey!”
A confused look crossed his face as I neared, as though he was surprised to see me. “Addie.” For a second there was a light in his eyes like I’d seen that evening on the beach. Then it disappeared. “You look swell.” He jammed his hands in the pockets of his black leather biker jacket, which reeked of stale cigarettes.
I flushed, unsure if he was sincere or mocking me. “It’s for Thanksgiving dinner.” The lines on this brow deepened. The holiday was everywhere, from the bulletin boards at school to the shop windows. How could he have forgotten?
He eyed the house warily, then started to turn away. “I gotta go.”
“But, Liam...”
“What do you want?”
I want you to come back to us. But telling him would not do any good. “Your brother’s enlisted,” I blurted out. I had not meant to break Charlie’s confidence, but some part of me thought if I shared the secret with Liam he might open up to me. It’s not as if he talked to the rest of the family enough to tell them anyway.
Liam flinched almost imperceptibly, a slap to the face I might have missed, before straightening and recovering once more. “Great, so he gets to be the hero—again.” He couldn’t admit that he was worried about Charlie—doing so would let down the exterior he had worked to harden.
“So where are you going?” I asked, changing the subject.
“To McGinley’s to hear a band.” Was that a lie? A minute earlier, he had been walking home. But now he was trying to escape the family Thanksgiving dinner. “You can come with me,” Liam said, his voice challenging and just a bit hopeful. I realized with surprise that part of me wanted to say yes— and not just to make him happy. I was nervous about dinner and all that was to come with it.
But Charlie would be home soon and I had to be here when he arrived. “Your mom’s made a big dinner, and my aunt and uncle are coming.”
“Fine.” He struggled to make his voice indifferent.
“You could stay.” Liam did not answer, but turned and pulled his dirt bike from where it had been chained against the gate. He wheeled it to the street, then climbed aboard and revved the engine. “Liam, wait.”
I wanted to tell him that I knew what it was to feel like an outsider, to be different than the rest. But he was already speeding away, accelerating too quickly as he neared the corner. I looked back over my shoulder, wondering if I should go after him. From the other direction, my aunt and uncle were coming down the street from where they had parked, huddled together under an umbrella, tentatively navigating the strange block as though it was a war zone. Uncle Meyer wore his best suit and Aunt Bess had put on her good brooch, the one that seemed to choke the folds of her neck. She clutched a bouquet of store-bought flowers close to her breast. I saw the Irish neighborhood, which I’d long grown accustomed to, through their eyes then. The Christmas decorations were already starting to go up, amplifying the differences between where we lived and here. I went to meet them, grateful that they were trying despite how difficult it was for them.
Together, we entered the Connallys’. Uncle Meyer hung back but Aunt Bess stepped forward. “Thank you for having us.”
Mrs. Connally, who had changed into her holiday dress, took the flowers Aunt Bess held out. “How lovely!” she said warmly. “Please, come have a seat.”
Aunt Bess and Uncle Meyer perched on the edge of the sofa, and Mr. and Mrs. Connally flanked them in the armchairs on either side. Though neighbors at the beach for several years, this was the first time my aunt and uncle had socialized with the Connallys. “So the Eagles are having a good year,” Mr. Connally ventured gamely. Uncle Meyer stared at him with a blank expression. He did not follow football.
There came a sudden clattering from the foyer. “There he is!” Mr. Connally bellowed. Charlie filled the doorway then, his hair damp and sleet-covered. The candlelight illuminated his soft skin and cheekbones, the perfect features that I had wanted for so long, that were now finally mine. I started to stand and go to him, then forced myself to remain seated. “They said you’d been delayed two hours... I would have come back to the station for you,” his father added.
“The train made up time. I caught a cab.” Charlie’s eyes met mine and a spark of excitement danced between us, sharing the secret that was ours alone for a bit longer. Doubt flushed through me. Maybe we shouldn’t tell anyone just yet, nurture the tiny flame a bit longer before subjecting it to the cold wind of family and friends, with all of their opinions and reactions.
Charlie’s mother was hugging him tightly now, his father clapping him proudly on the back. “The football star! I wish you would have let us come to a game.”
“They don’t let you play that much when you’re a freshman,” he said mildly. I could see how much he hated lying to them. “I spend a lot of time on the bench.”
Robbie flew down the stairs and threw himself around his older brother’s legs. Beau followed, wriggling excitedly. “Hey, champ!” Charlie scooped Robbie up, then groaned. “You’re getting heavy.” But over his head, Charlie’s expression grew serious. “I saw one of the Dennison cousins out front. He told me about Todd.”
“It’s awful, isn’t it?” his mother said in a low voice. “You see now why we didn’t want you to enlist, and why that was for the best.” Charlie did not answer but his jaw stiffened with resolve. If anything, Todd Dennison’s death would make him more determined to fight. “Your hair is so short,” Mrs. Connally added. But it went beyond the hair. Charlie had an air of confidence about him—older for all he had seen. Had he changed in other ways as well?
“I guess that’s the style now, with the war and all,” offered Jack, who had come into the room and now stood at Charlie’s side, grinning widely.
“And you look so thin,” his mother fretted. “Is the dorm food that bad?” Charlie smiled weakly. How could they not see?
Charlie set Robbie down and greeted Aunt Bess and shook Uncle Meyer’s hand. He looked around the room, his brow furrowing. “Liam’s not here.” It was more a statement than a question.
A moment of silence passed between his parents, not wanting to discuss the matter in front of my aunt and uncle. Should I say anything about the fact that I had seen Liam a bit earlier? “He’s probably with his friends,” Jack said.
“Kids who aren’t with their families on Thanksgiving.” Mr. Connally sniffed, the thought of little comfort.
“I’m sure he’ll be here anytime now,” Mrs. Connally said with forced brightness. “Why don’t we sit for dinner?”
We shuffled to the dining room and found seats. Charlie squeezed in next to me. I looked down, trying to contain my excitement.
“Gee, what’s to eat, Mom?” Jack joked, as he eyed the huge spread she had put out on the table.
We were all seated, an empty place remaining for Liam. The Connallys started to bow their heads to say grace and Uncle Meyer and Aunt Bess’s expressions turned confused. They sat quietly until the prayer was over. “It’s delicious,” Aunt Bess said when the first course, a squash soup, was served.
“It’s so hard now, with the rationing,” Mrs. Connally lamented as she passed a basket of warm rolls.
“I know,” Aunt Bess replied, seemingly energized by having found common ground. “I found a wonderful cookbook put out by Hadassah, the recipes are all about making do.”
Underneath the table, Charlie’s fingers found mine. I wished my hands were not so clammy. “Excuse me,” I said, suddenly warm. Not waiting for a response, I stood as if starting for the bathroom, then made my way through the kitchen to the back porch and sunk down, just shielded from the icy rain that fell beyond it. Why was I so nervous? It was just Charlie. Except it wasn’t—because everything had changed now.
The door opened behind me and Charlie’s hand was warm around my shoulder. “What’s wrong, Ad?” he asked, dropping to the step beside me. Our breath formed white puffs, like captions in a comic book that might hold their thoughts or words.
“My aunt and uncle,” I fibbed. “It’s awkward having them here.”
“It’s not so bad, is it? They’re trying.”
“And Liam’s not here.” I hated bringing it up. Why did I always find the dark spaces between light, even in the happiest moments? “I saw him earlier, before you got home. It was not even dinner and he was already in pretty bad shape.” I spoke in a low voice, even though it was just the two of us.
“Liam will be fine, and he’ll be home later.” He sounded as if he really believed it. With Charlie here, the picture seemed to right itself and become whole once more. Then he wrapped his arms tightly around me. “I missed you so much, Ad,” he said, pushing away the darkness, as he always had. I sank back against him, enveloped by the warmth I had barely tasted before he left, and that I had missed so terribly all of these months. Joy surged through me and air seemed to shimmer. Would I ever get used to his? “I’m just so happy,” he murmured against the top of my head. “And now we can tell everyone.”
Hesitation crowded in, nipping at my happiness. Though we had planned this moment for months, there was so much we hadn’t thought through. “So you’re still going to tell them about the army, too?” He nodded. “Which will you tell them first?”
He shrugged. “Does it matter?”
It was a fair point. His secret enlistment and our being together would both be equally shocking. I tried to imagine my aunt and uncle’s reaction. Being friends with the Connally boys was one thing, but Charlie was not Jewish. I fretted that I should have told them at home and weathered the storm in private. “When?”
“After dinner. The timing is awful after what happened to Todd Dennison, but I don’t feel right keeping it from them any longer.”
“Are you sure we should tell them about us tonight as well? Two surprises together might be too much.”
“Absolutely sure.” He nodded, smiling brightly, unable to see a possible downside. He wanted to share the news with everyone, like a new toy or good grade in school.
“Charlie?” his mother’s voice called from inside the house. We pulled quickly apart and stood up.
“I’m coming,” he called back. “Wait,” he said to me, catching my arm as I started inside the house. I turned to him. “I’ve got something for you.” He reached in his pocket.
“What? I wasn’t expecting anything. Christmas isn’t for weeks.”
“It’s not that kind of gift.” My breath caught as he held out a small jewelry box to me. We had been dating—and not even really that—such a short time, he couldn’t possibly think about proposing. But when I opened the box it was his class ring from Southern, nested in a bed of white satin. “I thought you might want to wear it,” he offered. “Just to make things official. I should have given it to you last summer, but everything happened so quickly.” Relief and a tiny bit of disappointment mixed with my joy as I undid the clasp on the gold chain I wore around my neck, which had been bare since I gave him the mizpah last summer, and added the ring. A part of me had wanted him to propose, even as the notion terrified me. But I was so happy to have this. Then I turned away and lifted my hair so he could refasten it, shivering as his fingers grazed the nape of my neck. The ring pulled the chain beneath the neckline of my dress, hanging heavy between my small breasts, a hidden treasure only the two of us knew.
“I love it.” I tilted my head upward, yearning for him to finally kiss me. But before our lips could meet, there was a clattering in the doorway and Robbie appeared. “What are you guys doing out here? It’s freezing.” We separated hurriedly and I noticed then how cold it had gotten.
Back inside everyone seemed to be finishing seconds of turkey and mashed potatoes. As I sat before my untouched plate, Charlie passed behind me. His hand brushed my shoulder and though it had done so dozens of times before, the gesture was somehow more purposeful this time, more possessive. Mrs. Connally noticed and a look of...something flickered across her face. Not approval. I was suddenly anxious. Mrs. Connally loved me like a daughter; surely she would not mind me and her eldest son being together. Or would she?
“Addie, are you okay? You were gone so long.” Aunt Bess looked concerned.
“I’m fine, I just needed some air.” Charlie sat down beside me once more and took my hand, squeezing my fingers as if to say everything will be fine. I relaxed slightly, looking around the table, contented to all be together, one of the happiest moments I had known.
All, that was, except for Liam. “I would have thought Liam would have at least come home for dessert,” Mrs. Connally said. “I even found pecans for the pumpkin pie, just the way he likes.” But she was seeing a younger boy, one who still cared about his mother’s desserts, fresh and warm. Across from her, Jack’s jaw clenched.
Robbie pushed back from the table. “This is bullshit,” he declared, trying to sound older than twelve.
“Language!” his father barked.
Uncle Meyer started to rise from his chair. “Perhaps we should go.”
“Nonsense. I insist you stay for dessert,” Mrs. Connally replied. My uncle sat once more, staring hard at his plate. I felt a moment’s guilt for having snared them into this. But Aunt Bess seemed to watch with interest, as though following one of her soap operas on the radio. Mrs. Connally reached for her youngest son’s hand, trying to soothe him. “Robbie, darling, sit down.”
But Robbie slipped through her grasp. “I’m not going to let Liam ruin Thanksgiving.”
I gestured toward his hideaway beneath the steps. “How about a game of chess while we wait for dessert?” I suggested. Robbie had an amazing aptitude for the game and we would sneak in a few minutes whenever we could. But he shook his head. Even our special hiding place could not console him now.
“What are you going to do?” Jack demanded, rising, as Robbie walked toward the door and put on his coat. “What can you possibly do that the rest of us haven’t tried?”
“I can try not giving up on him,” Robbie said resolutely. “I can try bringing him home.” He ran out, letting the door slam behind him.
Charlie stood. “I’ll go get him.”
But I put my arm on his. “Robbie feels he has to try, just like the rest of us.” I pushed my own anxiety down. Robbie knew the neighborhood as well as the older boys. “If he doesn’t find Liam soon, he’ll hurry back for dessert.” I stood to help Mrs. Connally clear the plates, grateful to have something to keep me busy. But my hands shook. Would Robbie be able to find Liam and actually persuade him to come home? It was odd with Liam gone, but having him here, drunk and maybe hostile, could be worse. I hated the thought. Tonight, though, I wanted everything to be perfect.
We were halfway through dessert when the first concerns were voiced aloud. “They should be back by now,” Mrs. Connally fretted. “Robbie would have found Liam or come back by now.”
“It’s fine, Mom,” Charlie said. But his voice sounded forced.
“Yeah,” Jack chimed in. “Just like that time Charlie was late at football and you worried and worried.”
“Thanks, pal.” Charlie’s tone was sarcastic.
“Don’t mention it.”
“The weather was bad then, too,” Charlie pointed out.
His mother shook her head.
“This is different.” She served coffee and we drank it quietly, all of the small talk gone. Another half an hour passed.
“Let’s tell stories,” Charlie suggested. “I want to hear the one about when the twins tried to come early.”
“Well,” Mrs. Connally began, “your father was at work when it all started.” As she began to recount the blizzard and the fire truck that had rushed her to the hospital, her husband chimed in adding parts she had forgotten. “And the doctor was so surprised when there were two!”
“If you think he was surprised, imagine how I felt,” Mrs. Connally added. My aunt and uncle laughed appreciatively.
“Folks, there’s something I, that is we, want to tell you,” Charlie began when the laughter had subsided. So he meant to tell them about us first. All eyes turned toward him. Though we had wanted everyone to be together when we shared the news, I knew he could not wait any longer. He cleared his throat. Mr. Connally looked curious, his wife pleasantly expectant, as though she might have already guessed.
I looked away. Through the window I noticed a man standing at the front door. We had been laughing so hard we must not have heard the first knock. He was wearing a uniform and for a minute, I thought it was one of the army officials who had come to the Dennison house earlier in the afternoon. But his jacket was dark blue, a police badge on the breast pocket. A chill ran up my spine. “Charlie, there’s someone at the door...”
I was interrupted by the bell ringing and the sound of a fist knocking hard and fast against the wood of the door frame.
“What on earth?” Mr. Connally said as he rose to answer it. Everyone else stood, too. Instinctively Jack moved closer to his mother. I felt Charlie come up behind me.
As Mr. Connally opened the door, the red lights of the police car flashed on the living room wall. “Mr. Connally?” the policeman asked. “There’s been an accident. You need to come with us.” As if from a great distance I heard Mrs. Connally gasp.
“Is it Liam?” Aunt Bess put a hand on her shoulder.
