Take Me Home (9781455552078)

by Garlock, Dorothy

  “I’ve made my decision.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” her mother answered. “You’ve already changed your mind once, you can do it again. All you have to do is go over to the Tates’ and apologize. Better yet, go right to the bank. You may have to play it up a bit, explain that you’ve got a case of the jitters, something that can happen to any bride-to-be. Make sure to lay it on thick. Cry if you have to. As head-over-heels in love with you as William is, I’m sure he’ll take you back in the end.”

  Elizabeth’s manipulative suggestions, that a relationship was simply something that could be bartered for a better life, made Olivia feel sick. “You’re not listening to me. There’s nothing for me to apologize for other than having accepted his proposal in the first place. I don’t want him to take me back. I don’t want to be his wife. All I want is for things between us to go back to the way they were. I want us to be friends.”

  “It’s too late for that,” her mother said with a derisive laugh. “Ever since he proposed, all you’ve done is make mistakes! You should have set a date for the wedding just as soon as he asked. Instead, all you did was spend time with that man who pushed you out of the way of Sylvester’s truck…” Olivia watched as a revelation struck Elizabeth; her eyes grew as big as saucers before narrowing to the smallest of slits. “This is because of him, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice rising. “He’s the reason you did this!”

  Olivia’s composure faltered and her mother noticed; even if she wanted to lie, she knew that Elizabeth would never believe her now. Her mother’s accusation was both right and wrong; while her decision to break off her engagement to Billy was largely because she’d never had any romantic feelings for him, there was no point in denying that her relationship with Peter had played a role. He brought out things in her that she’d never felt before. Kissing him had opened the door to her heart further. Now she wanted to see where it led.

  But how could she admit as much to her mother?

  Elizabeth had always been obsessed with standing and appearances, measuring her own life by how others saw it. Through that prism, there was no way Peter could ever hope to equal Billy. Though Peter had been lauded around Miller’s Creek for keeping Olivia from harm, it wouldn’t be enough. His smarts, charm, and good looks didn’t count, either. The only thing that truly mattered was what he had in his bank account; in that way, he was a much poorer man than Billy, so in her mother’s eyes he would never be good enough for her daughter. Olivia chose to disagree.

  “I made this decision on my own,” she answered, neither confirming nor refuting her mother’s claim.

  “I doubt that,” her mother said. “Young ladies like you, the ones who don’t have a shred of common sense in their heads, are easily swayed. Slick talkers come along and promise the moon and stars above but they never deliver. Who knows what sort of nonsense he’s filled your head with? I wouldn’t be surprised if everything he’s told you has been a lie!”

  “You’re being paranoid.”

  “Am I?” Elizabeth asked. “How would you know? There’s no way of checking. Where he’s from, his family, what he does for a living, even his name, all of it made up off the top of his head in order to get what he really wants!” She paused, looking closely at Olivia. “You haven’t slept with him, have you?”

  “Mother!” she shouted, unable to believe what she was hearing.

  “I’m just asking.”

  “I haven’t!”

  “Thank Heavens for that. You know,” she added. “I wouldn’t even be surprised if he’s lying about the Army.”

  “What could possibly make you think that?”

  “Look at him!” her mother answered. “I don’t care what he says he does, no army I’ve ever heard of wouldn’t want a man his size in uniform. William at least has the excuse of his heart, but your dear Peter looks as fit as an ox. He’s practically a ringer for the soldier on the recruiting posters!”

  Olivia’s head spun. She remembered what Billy had told her, the claims he had made; it had been much the same. But whenever she thought of the things Peter had told her about his life, the way he’d smiled at her from across the room, and especially the way she had felt when they kissed, she couldn’t bring herself to doubt him. What reason could he have for not telling the truth?

  Deep in thought, Olivia was startled when her mother grabbed her by the arm and began to pull her toward the house. “We’re going inside and I’m going to call your father,” she said. “Maybe he can talk some sense into you. I can’t remember the last time you listened to anything I had to say!”

  Olivia jerked her arm free. “That’s because what I want doesn’t matter to you! I tried to tell you that I had my doubts about marrying Billy, but you didn’t hear a word I said. As long as you don’t end up looking bad, you couldn’t care less if I’m happy.” Without waiting for her mother’s reply, she turned and walked away.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Elizabeth shouted. “We’re not done talking about this! Get back here this instant!”

  But Olivia didn’t listen. Her mother kept hollering, but she didn’t follow; there was too great a chance that someone might see her. The sound of her voice dwindled the farther Olivia walked until, finally, it was gone.

  For the second time, confiding in her mother had been a disaster.

  Peter stood beneath the diner’s awning and looked out into the street. The afternoon sun beat down hard and steady, too warm to stand in for long. Townspeople occasionally passed him on the sidewalk; though most of them seemed friendly enough, smiling or saying a word or two, Peter felt conspicuous, as if he stood out. Though he’d been in Miller’s Creek for almost a week, he wondered if he would ever feel comfortable. All around him, there were reminders that he was far from home. Red, white, and blue flags fluttered in the breeze. Posters were taped to windows and pinned to telephone poles, calling for support for the war effort. Walking back to town from the cabin, he’d heard shopkeepers behind their counters, friends in the middle of conversations, even voices calling out from radios, all of them speaking English; the words still sounded foreign to his ear, even when he was the one speaking them. That he was standing where he was, an escaped German prisoner of war, waiting to meet the town’s sheriff, the father of the woman he was falling in love with, seemed stranger than fiction.

  Growing nervous, Peter glanced at the clock above the bank. It was a quarter past two. John was late.

  Suddenly, he was startled by the sound of a car’s horn; he looked to see John waving as he drove past and pulled into a parking spot across the street. Peter crossed to meet him.

  “Sorry I’m late,” the sheriff said as he got out. “Turns out I had more work to do than I’d expected.”

  “On account of yesterday’s fire?” Peter asked.

  Olivia’s father nodded. “Lots of loose ends to tie up. My phone’s been ringing off the hook. I have to watch Huck or he takes his out of the cradle and lays it on his desk,” he added with a smile. “Now, come on. There’s something I want to show you.”

  Peter followed as John led the way down the street. Just like when they’d eaten at the diner, everyone they passed shared a word with the sheriff.

  “Doesn’t that ever get tiresome?” Peter asked.

  “Talking with people? Naw, not one bit,” John explained. “The way I see things, it’s more than just a part of my job. Rather, it’s what makes this community so great. In a town like this, everyone knows each other. Most folks are friendly enough to want to talk, no matter for how long. Especially with the country at war, that bond makes us all feel like we’re in it together.” Looking over at Peter, he added, “Stick around long enough, you’ll be doing it like all the rest.”

  John waved to everyone inside the barbershop, rounded the corner, and then began to climb the wooden stairs mounted to the outside of the building. Peter followed. At the top of the steps was a door. The sheriff fished a key out of his pocket, opened it, and stepped inside.

&
nbsp; It was an apartment. The largest room faced toward the street; a picture window gave a view onto the post office and a furniture store. Toward the rear, there was a small kitchen and a bathroom. Down a short hallway, Peter saw a bedroom beyond. The furnishings weren’t much, a couple of chairs, a table in the kitchen that leaned to one side, a mattress on the bedroom floor, and an old phonograph player in the corner near the window.

  “It may not be the Ritz Carlton,” John said with a chuckle. “But it sure beats sleeping in a train car.”

  Peter flinched; John couldn’t have known how close to the mark his joke had come. Still, he was confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “This is for you,” the sheriff explained. “I made a few phone calls, cashed in a favor or two, and rented it out for you. It’s yours for as long as it takes to get your feet back under you and on your way.”

  Stunned, his head spinning, Peter stammered, “It…it might take me a while to repay you.”

  “No need. I wouldn’t accept it anyway.”

  “Why…why would you do this for me…?”

  John smiled. “On account of what you did for my daughter, for one thing,” he replied. “But also because I know you’re a good man. I saw what you did out at the fire. You risked your life to help folks you’d never met. You did what was right, and that’s a quality I hold in no shortage of regard. If this,” he added, waving a hand around the apartment, “helps you in some small way, I reckon that’s the least I can do.”

  Peter was speechless; he was also conflicted. On one hand, he was proud to know that John thought so highly of him. He’d always strived to do what was right, to help those in need, just as his parents had taught him. But on the other hand, Peter knew that he’d been lying to the sheriff and his family since the moment he’d met them. It made him feel unworthy of the gift he was being given.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he said.

  “How about that you’ll take it?” John chuckled as he tossed the key to Peter, who reflexively caught it.

  “Thank you,” Peter answered.

  “You’re welcome. Although I reckon that I’m going to be completely honest, there’s another reason for this.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My wife,” he replied a bit sheepishly. “You see, Elizabeth is the sort of woman who worries about what others say. Ever since you arrived, she thinks that everyone in town is talking about the stranger staying in her house. She thinks it’s some sort of scandal. It keeps her awake most nights, clenching the sheets so tight you’d think she was trying to strangle them. Now me, I don’t mind tongues wagging. Heck, I’ve heard more than enough gossip to last me the rest of my days. I’ve never paid it much mind, but Elizabeth…”

  “I get it,” Peter said. “The last thing I want is to cause you and your family any trouble.”

  “You haven’t, no matter what my wife might imagine. Still, I appreciate your understanding all the same.” With a chuckle, he added, “Besides, with the way she’s been carrying on, I was starting to lose some sleep of my own.”

  “You were?”

  John nodded. “I was wondering when those strangling hands of hers were going to make their way from the sheets to my neck!”

  They both laughed heartily at the joke. But then the sheriff’s smile faded and his expression grew serious.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said last night,” he explained. “When we were all in the kitchen…”

  “Yes, sir,” Peter answered.

  “Your words were wise beyond your years. It was the sort of thing I’ve only ever heard from men who’ve served, who know firsthand what war is really like.”

  Peter’s mind raced. John was right; the reason he could talk that way was that he knew exactly how brutal war was. He’d seen men die, suffer from their wounds, starve, freeze in the middle of an unforgiving winter, and face every calamity that combat brought. He’d also seen the lives of civilians ruined, German and otherwise, with everything they’d built gone in an instant. But he could never tell this to Olivia’s father. John was a veteran of the First World War, a man who hated Germans. If Peter told him the truth, the sheriff’s smile would disappear for good.

  And then he’d never see Olivia again.

  “I have friends who’ve fought,” Peter replied. “I saw how it changed them, made them into different men than they’d been when they left. So while I believe that war is necessary in order to rid the world of evil, it’s not something I’ll be rushing into with blinders on. I’ll face it for what it is.”

  John nodded. “Billy was out of line,” he said.

  “He just doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I, for one, hope that he never finds out how wrong he is.”

  “Amen to that,” Olivia’s father agreed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now how about we get something to eat. I’m starving!”

  As John headed down the stairs, Peter took one last look into his new apartment. Part of the reason he’d been given it was the lies he’d spun, an intricate web that threatened to trap him and all those he’d begun to care for. No matter what, he vowed to find a way to cut them all free.

  Chapter Eighteen

  BY THE TIME OLIVIA RETURNED HOME, the sun had nearly set behind a wall of dark clouds to the west. She’d walked for hours, from one side of Miller’s Creek to the other, meandering as she went. She’d passed children playing stickball in the street, waved at Clyde Kirby as he peeked out from beneath the hood of his automobile, and even helped Eunice Martin raise her flag up its pole. With every block she traveled, she kept expecting to see Billy round the corner ahead of her, or hear the honk of her father’s horn as he idled up behind her in his police car, but on and on she’d walked, alone. Now, she was back where she’d started. Surprisingly, even though she was tired and her feet ached, she was still restless.

  Her head churned. All day, she’d thought about Billy and his proposal, her mother’s unrealistic expectations and demands, and even the strange, wonderful way Peter made her feel. She’d turned the past week around and around, looking at it from every angle, but she still couldn’t find a way to make everyone she loved happy. And that included herself. No matter what decision she made, someone would end up being hurt.

  Inside her house, lights were on in the dining room and kitchen. Her father’s car sat in the drive. Right now, all of them, including Peter, were probably sitting down to dinner and wondering where she was; Olivia could hardly guess what excuse her mother had come up with to explain her absence. She knew that she should go inside, stop running away from her problems, but a combination of pride and fear wouldn’t let her.

  “You can’t stand out here forever,” she muttered.

  While trying to figure out what to do, Olivia heard a door open. She turned to see Ruth Pollack step onto her porch and slowly make her way to her favorite chair; even though the older woman was blind, she’d traversed the path so often that she knew just where to go. Seeing her made Olivia think that she could put off confronting her family a little while longer.

  As carefully and quietly as she could, Olivia started up Ruth’s walk toward the porch. Ever since she and Grace had been little, they’d often come to speak with their neighbor, for conversation as well as lemonade and a candy or two. Whenever they went for a visit, they tried to be as quiet as mice, sneaking up not out of childish mischievousness or because they wanted to scare Ruth, but because they’d never made it closer than a few feet before being caught. This time, Olivia didn’t even make it to the second step.

  “Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean that I’m deaf,” Ruth suddenly said. “You might as well have called out to me from the sidewalk.”

  “How could you possibly have known I was coming?” Olivia asked in amazement; she thought she hadn’t made a peep.

  “Clearly, I did, though,” she answered with a bright smile. “Though I have to admit that I wasn’t sure if it was you or your sister until just now. Come, sit for a whil
e and talk with an old woman.”

  Olivia grabbed another chair and pulled it over next to Ruth’s. Just as soon as she’d sat down, the blind woman said, “So tell me what’s the matter.”

  “What makes you think that something’s bothering me?”

  “Probably the fact that its suppertime and your whole family is sitting down to eat, while you’re over here with me.”

  “You don’t miss much, do you?”

  “When your whole world is black, you learn to pay awfully close attention to it. It’s the only way to keep from falling on your face.”

  Olivia laughed easily and then sighed. “My life’s become something of a mess,” she explained. “Even with the war and all the changes it brought, my days didn’t have many surprises. One wasn’t all that different from the next, and that was all right with me. Then, all of a sudden, it got all jumbled up, like a puzzle that’s been knocked to the floor.”

  “And you’re having trouble putting it back together?”

  “And then some.”

  “It has to do with love, doesn’t it?”

  Olivia nodded her head for a moment before realizing that Ruth couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she said instead.

  “And your engagement to Billy Tate?”

  She was about to ask the older woman how she knew about that, but stopped; there was no doubt in Olivia’s mind that word of her relationship with Billy had raced around town like wildfire; she could only guess how long it would take for news of their breakup to spread. For someone like Ruth, a woman who paid close attention to the world around her, it wasn’t much of a surprise that she knew.

  “I ended it yesterday,” Olivia answered, seeing no point in holding back the truth. She told Ruth all about what had happened; her shock when he’d asked her to become his wife, how she’d accepted out of the fear of breaking his heart right before he left for the service, and about how that decision had weighed on her like a stone ever since. “I love Billy so much, I always have, but as a friend, not as a husband. In the end, I just couldn’t go through with it.”