“Merry Christmas, ma’am.” The officers returned the sentiment to Nana, followed by another “Merry Christmas,” as they nodded their heads toward the open door and delivered a solemn salute to the family.
Chapter 12
Elizabeth balanced on the ladder and took the last box of ornaments from Nana’s hands. They had become quite a team over the past few months and they wanted the house to sparkle by the time Sam got home. “I’ll get the rest of it, Nana. Don’t worry. All I have left to do is sweep the fallen needles out of the carpet. Not sure if the sweeper will do the whole job, may have to take the whole rug outside for a good shake, but at least it’s not snowing. I’ll drag what’s left of the tree to the incinerator too. Why don’t you go lay down?”
“I could use a little nap. It has been a hectic week. Getting ready for Sam, cleaning the house, putting the Christmas decorations back in the attic. Thank you, Dear. I’ll be down in an hour or so.”
Elizabeth was ready for a few moments to herself, and after finishing the remainder of her tasks, she eyed the overstuffed chair in the corner and the welcome warmth of the fire. I see hot chocolate in my future, she mused, but before she could retrieve the saucepan from the cupboard, she heard a slight tap on the door. She met the mailman as he was preparing to knock again.
“Hello, Elizabeth. A little bit bigger envelope than normal. I couldn’t push it through the mail slot. Thought I’d hand it to you personally.”
“Thanks a lot, Mr. Holmes. You have a nice afternoon.”
“You too, young lady.” Clutching the large manila envelope to her chest, Elizabeth watched as he hoisted his mailbag securely over his shoulder and proceeded cautiously down the sidewalk to complete his route. Mr. Holmes had been the neighborhood postman for as long as her grandmother had lived there. She mused that they must be about the same age, but his gait was brisk and he always had a smile and a kind word to share with everyone, young or old.
Once he was out of sight, Elizabeth scrutinized the return address. She didn’t recognize the sender or the handwriting. Dr. Leonard Shapiro, Da Nang Field Hospital, Vietnam.
She forgot about the hot chocolate. She grabbed her afghan and wrapped it around her shoulders, positioned herself inside the deep corner of the chair and peeled away the tape that held tightly to the package. She had no hint what the contents of the letter from her brother, written just before his accident, would reveal. On top of his letters was a short note held by a rubber band around two more letters.
December 23, 1966
Dear Elizabeth,
I will be brief. My name is Dr. Leonard Shapiro, and I’m a doctor in the field hospital in Da Nang. By now you’ve probably been informed of your brother’s injuries, but he’s a strong young man and there’s no reason why he can’t live an entirely useful and normal life with the use of his prosthetic hand.
When he was brought into the hospital, this letter was in his shirt pocket. He was preparing to mail it, but was interrupted when they were ordered to move out. With his permission, I have bundled it with another letter written after his surgery, dictated to a nurse who regularly assists the soldiers who have suffered this type of wound. Please know how sorry I am for this life-changing occurrence for Sam, as well as the rest of his family. Find joy in one another.
Best Regards,
Dr. Leonard Shapiro
Elizabeth shivered, even though the fire was blazing and the flames were burning dazzling shades of purple, red, and yellow. She pulled the pink afghan closer and surrounded herself with the silky threads before she opened Sam’s first letter.
December 8, 1966
Dear Elizabeth,
Boy, have you changed! I leave you alone for a few months, and you grow up! That was a great picture, and it sure is nice to see a friendly face from home, even if it is a sister. No . . . just kidding, honest. I showed my friend Paul, and even though he’s too quiet and polite to say anything out loud, he sure did have a big grin on his face! I don’t think he’s gotten any letters since we arrived. There were a few that came from his buddies in Los Angeles when we were at Pendleton, but nothing since then. He likes hearing about our family because I don’t think he has much of his own.
We are all enjoying the Sunday radio broadcasts from Saigon. It helps all of us take our minds off being here. Paul says it reminds him of his record collection back home, like 400 albums. Hard to believe.
I hope you and the family had a great Thanksgiving. The holidays have never been this hard for you and everyone else too, I know. I keep thinking of the white Christmases we shared, and shoveling snow is nothing compared to the continuous rain in Chu Lai. I guess if you’re born here, you’d get used to it. I know I never will.
It’s been pretty hard to sleep because of the heat and noise in the distance from mortar fire and bombings. Choppers hover nearby, day and night, but they have to be prepared to take any wounded to the field hospitals as soon as they’re needed. If they can get soldiers off the ground and into the capable hands of medics and nurses, there’s a much better chance they’ll survive. So many kids, Elizabeth. Sometimes—no all the time—I wonder why we’re even here.
We take shifts when we go out on patrol, and the jungle is dark like you’ve never seen. I’ve heard of friendly fire casualties in the Valley. That’s our guys, accidentally mistaking one of our troops for the enemy, and firing right into the midst of them, only to find out they killed or wounded one of their own. It hasn’t happened with us, don’t worry, and so far, the only fighting I’ve seen is some skirmishes in our hooches (they’re like huge tents), after some of these boys have had too much to drink when they’re off duty.
No matter what, have a great Christmas. I’ll miss all of you, and promise to write again next week. It will probably be more of the same, not much to report, but writing keeps my mind sharp. If only my professors could see me now! It’s too late tonight to take this letter to the supply sergeant, but I’ll mail it right after breakfast. Be good, and remember, don’t believe everything you see on TV, read in the newspapers, or hear on the radio. Give my love to Nana and the twins. Over, and out.
Always Your Older Brother,
Sam
Elizabeth took a deep breath and tried to imagine her brother writing this letter with his right hand, no inkling of what was lurking in his unscripted future. It made her sad to feel his mood of self-assurance and no sense of imminent doom. She returned the pages to the envelope and reached for the last one, bound to be equally as heartbreaking.
December 24, 1966
Dear Elizabeth,
It’s Christmas Eve, and I don’t have to tell you what you must already know. How pathetic am I? Can’t hold a pen, have to rely on a nurse to write for me. Although I’m not good company for anyone, she is very kind to let me dictate this letter to her. I suppose I should try to say something heartwarming or festive, being that Christmas is tomorrow and everything, but I just wish I could fall asleep and never wake up. I’m in constant pain and I have no idea how I’m going to learn to live without my right hand. I am dreading my future, but maybe in a few weeks I’ll feel differently and be a bit more positive. I’m told that’s what will happen. We’ll see.
My buddy, Paul, was also wounded, but the swelling in his face has already started to go down and his stitches will be out by the time we get home. Dr. Shapiro said he still has some pieces of shrapnel embedded in his skull but they’re too close to vital arteries to remove. We haven’t talked much since they choppered us in, but his cot is right next to mine. I guess getting wounded is the only way to get a one-way ticket home and exit this dreadful place.
You might not get this letter until after the holidays, but tell everyone I’m thinking of them, and can’t wait to be home. Don’t believe everything you see on TV, read in the newspapers, or hear on the radio. Give my love to Nana and the twins. Over, and out.
Always Your Older Brother,
Sam
A postscript followed Sam’s
letter, and Elizabeth shifted in her chair to get comfortable as she continued reading.
P.S. My name is Diane Wilson, and I’m a member of the Military Nurse Corp on assignment in this field hospital. I know this is a very rough time for your brother and the rest of your family. There are lots of adjustments you will need to make, but he is coming home, and even he is aware of how fortunate he is. He seems like a nice guy with a very bright future. I wish you a peaceful New Year, and many warm memories throughout your lives. Take good care of each other.
Elizabeth felt drained, but couldn’t help feeling optimistic about her brother’s homecoming. All she knew was he would be home in three weeks and she was prepared. She watched Nana navigate the stairs, looking more rested than when she’d retreated for her short nap. “Everything okay, child? You look toasty and warm.”
Elizabeth tucked the letters back in the large envelope and clutched them to her chest. “Yes, Nana. I’ve had a good rest. I’ll help you set the table.” She didn’t know if she would ever share the heartbreaking words from Sam with her grandmother and try as she might, doubted his return would be an easy transition for anyone.
Chapter 13
Reminders went off in Elizabeth’s head every hour like an alarm clock. The one she painstakingly set for six a.m. and placed on her bedside table ticked slowly toward dawn. But still, her restless mind prevented her from sleeping through the night. She wanted to have plenty of time to shower, dress, and help make breakfast for the family, even though Nana said no one would be hungry at such an early hour. “I’ve never seen a youngster worry quite as much as you do, Dear. We’ll bring snacks. Everyone will be fine.”
The knot in Elizabeth’s stomach grew tighter as daylight approached. She finally gave in and slammed down the button on her Big Ben alarm clock before it could let loose with a clatter that would disturb the whole household. She rolled out of bed, and whether it was nerves or too little sleep, she already felt agitated. Her hair was wild and in complete disarray, and she hardly recognized herself when she caught her reflection in the mirror. “Why today?” she grumbled aloud. “What am I going to do with this mess? Not the day to look like I haven’t slept in weeks, even though it’s true.”
Elizabeth sat on the edge of her bed and gingerly drew a hairbrush through her tangled curls. As the spirals relaxed, she did the same. She drew two side tendrils of the shiny tresses away from her face and gathered them softly in the back of her head with a rubber band. She reached for the wide white satin ribbon that had so lovingly secured her sixteenth birthday gift and tied it loosely around her pulled-back hair. Cautiously, Elizabeth applied a hint of rose blush to her delicate, creamy cheekbones and a little cherry-colored lipstick to her full innocent mouth. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, child,” Nana once told her. Elizabeth heeded her advice that “less is more” when it came to wearing makeup.
)
Uncle Bill’s family wagon only had enough seats for six, and it would be crowded once they picked up Sam from the airport. “Where are we supposed to sit?” Ricky complained. “There isn’t going to be enough room. We’ll be squished!”
His mother had convinced him there was plenty of extra space in the back behind the seats, and he and the twins would simply have to do the best they could. “It’s not the most comfortable situation, I agree, but we’ll do whatever we need to do to make it work.” For all her ladylike demeanor under most circumstances, Aunt Deborah was firm and unyielding, and even Nana took notice. “I’ll not put up with any whining or complaining on a day like today. Sam needs to come home to a happy family and we’ll do our part to make sure that’s exactly what happens.” She winked at Nana, but she had never been more serious.
)
“I think I see him!” Elizabeth teetered on tiptoes. “I’m not sure. So many guys in uniform.” The whole family waited at the end of the jet bridge inside the terminal to get their first glimpse of Sam. As they watched dozens of passengers disembark and stream past them, Elizabeth nervously chewed her lower lip.
Laura and Tina struggled to position themselves in front of the crowd, scrambling to be the first to notice their brother. “I got here first! Don’t push!” The twins shrieked.
“Settle down, you two. Sam’s not going to walk off that airplane any faster just because you guys are pushing and shoving.” The twins continued to jostle Elizabeth as she struggled to maintain her balance. She had to remind herself this was not the time to get irritated with them. The throng of passengers seemed to move at a snail’s pace, but she was sure she spotted her brother bringing up the end of the line.
Gaunt and thin, but shoulders back and standing tall, Sam scanned the crowd for a familiar face. The end of his right sleeve dangled empty just below his wrist where a two-pronged hook emerged, clearly visible. His thoughts raced . . . Everyone’s looking at me . . . I can feel it . . . they think I’m a freak. He was sure every person he passed was staring at the cold, lifeless piece of hardware, a clumsy, repellent appendage that was a poor substitute for a hand and a bitter reminder of the consequences of his decision to join the Marines. I can’t even shake hands like a man. I should never have left the girls . . . Left Boston . . . Left school . . . Sam looked straight ahead. As he caught sight of his family coming into full view, his thoughts were unexpectedly disrupted, and he broke into a warm, grateful smile.
Elizabeth couldn’t wait a moment longer. She burst through the crowd of passengers. Sam saw her running toward him with open arms and braced for the bear hug to follow. He didn’t want to get knocked over by his sister’s enthusiastic greeting. Neither spoke at first, but after Elizabeth had loosened her grip, she looked up and said, “I’m glad you’re home, Sam. We missed you so much.”
“Thanks, Sophomore. I missed all of you, too.”
Paul watched as his friend embraced his family, cheering, laughing, crying, as they greeted him in the narrow hallway of the airport. He felt awkward and out of place. This was Sam’s homecoming, not his, and he stepped aside to avoid the commotion. Ricky and the twins clamored for Sam’s attention and Uncle Bill and Aunt Deborah waited patiently for their turn. Nana could hardly move, relieved, overjoyed, and thrilled to finally touch her grandson, but inwardly devastated as she averted her eyes from his right hand.
Sam embraced each one in turn before noticing Paul standing off to one side. He motioned to his friend to join them.
“You okay, buddy?”
Paul shifted nervously, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. “Yeah. It’s good to be home.”
“We’ll stay in touch. Thanks for the surfing lesson.” A slight smile crept across Sam’s face at the recollection.
“Anytime, m—”
“Flight thirty-six forty-five to Los Angeles is now boarding at gate sixty-five.” The announcement for Paul’s connecting flight blared through the terminal.
“Gotta go. That’s my flight.” Paul slung his duffle bag over one shoulder and turned to leave.
“Wait, hold on. I want you to meet my family before you go, especially my little sister, Elizabeth.” Sam noticed that she didn’t look so little anymore. At sixteen she was beginning to fill out, wear the slightest amount of makeup, and appear more grown up than she had when he left for boot camp. As cute as she looked in the picture, it didn’t do her justice.
“I’ve heard nothing but good things about you, Elizabeth. Your brother talked about you and his family all the time. I feel like I know you already.” Paul was trying to be polite and not say anything offensive. Inside his heart was melting. He had never seen a girl this beautiful—long auburn hair touching her shoulders with the slightest curl at the end, the greenest eyes he had ever seen, skin the color of fine porcelain, and, as he had to remind himself, only sixteen years old.
“I’ve heard so much about you too, Paul.” Elizabeth leaned in to give him a hug, genuine and heartfelt, happy that he was going home to his family who must be waiting for him in Los Angeles. “I hope you
can make it back here someday, maybe in the spring when it’s a little warmer. There’s an awful lot to see and do around Boston, and I know Sam would love to give you the grand tour.”
As wonderful as that sounded, Paul knew he might never return and perhaps this was his final farewell to his buddy, Sam. He took one long look at Elizabeth so he wouldn’t forget the angelic face that greeted him, or the smile that warmed his heart his first moments back on American soil. Paul started for his gate and, unable to resist the temptation, stole one more backward glance. Elizabeth managed another smile and a shy wave in his direction. Sam never said a word about Paul being so cute. She tucked the thought aside. Once he disappeared from view, the reunited Sutton family gathered around Sam, and headed to the parking lot, ready to take him to the warm comfort of home.
)
After takeoff, Paul closed his eyes, etching the memory with Sam and his family in his mind forever. It would be so sweet, compared to the real homecoming that awaited him—a drunk for a father, melancholy memories of a mother taken too soon, no brothers or sisters, and emptiness all around. He would walk through the door like he had never even been gone, like he had merely stepped out for a drink with his buddies, a night of dancing, or a day at work. That would be his homecoming. No fanfare, no one rushing toward him with open arms. He would find his father passed out on the turquoise Naugahyde living-room couch, like always. He wasn’t looking forward to any of it. But with a flood of relief, he felt safe to be back in the USA, with the freedom to stroll down the boulevard, straight to the nearest hamburger stand and order a burger, Coke, and fries.
Keep Forever Page 7
