by Linda Ford
“Caleb. Something we need to talk about.” Molly stood close to Caleb, her arms akimbo and her legs wide, like a fighter issuing a challenge.
Caleb straightened. He gave Molly a cautious look; then his gaze darted past Molly to meet Lizzie’s eyes. She smiled, though she felt her eyes awash in sadness. The scene of Pearl and Frankie clinging together would not soon leave her thoughts.
“Lizzie here tells me Frankie isn’t getting better. Maybe never.”
Caleb flinched at her blunt words.
Molly plowed on. “Now there’s no sense in beating around the bush. Frankie has a good freighting business, but Audie’s running it into the ground. Robbie tells me he seldom has the second outfit working. What I’m wanting to know is what are you planning to do about it?”
Caleb’s mouth dropped open. He blinked. “Me?”
Molly jerked her head forward. “You’re his friend, right?”
Caleb nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I guess it’s up to you to see to his interests. Now I offered to buy back my team, but that don’t make sense. What makes sense is for someone”—she poked a finger at his chest—“I’m meaning you—to tell Audie if he don’t take care of things proper, he’ll be answering to someone besides Robbie or Pearl.” She took a deep breath. “Like you.”
He scowled at her. “You done?”
She scowled right back. “You tell me. You gonna’ do something?”
“I declare. Sometimes I think you should have been a man. You bark orders like some tinhorn sergeant major.”
“I’m only saying what’s got to be said.”
Caleb closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ll go see Audie and talk to him.” He glared at Molly. “Man to man.”
“Fine.” She spun around and marched back to the wagon. “See you, Lizzie,” she called and rattled away.
“I pity the man who marries that girl,” Caleb muttered.
“She’s got a good heart.”
“And a big mouth.”
Lizzie laughed, but the sound died as her throat tightened. “Caleb, Frankie is so much worse.” She flung herself into his arms. “Hold me. Just hold me.”
Caleb crushed her to his chest so hard her arms hurt, but she didn’t mind. Tears welled up in her throat. For the Duncans. For herself. The war had exacted a high price from everyone.
Caleb pushed her away. “I’ve got to go see Frankie. We need to talk.”
She nodded. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“That’s all right. I’ll be waiting.”
He searched her face hungrily, yet unsure.
She nodded. “Go now.” Was he unsure of himself or her? “I’ll be here.”
He seemed to struggle with some uncertainty within himself before he strode away.
9
Days passed. Lizzie accompanied Caleb to the Duncan home almost every day, playing her flute each time. Often she brought the children home for the afternoon, doing her best to amuse them and protect them from the pall hanging over their own home as Frankie worsened rapidly.
“Come to bed,” Lizzie begged after a particularly trying day. She’d kept the children while the doctor came to change the dressings on Frankie’s feet. Caleb had insisted on being at Frankie’s side. “He needs someone to hold him when the doctor—” He couldn’t go on.
“Come to bed,” she said again. “You need some sleep.”
“How can I sleep?” Caleb’s cheeks had grown more hollow as the days passed. His eyes were lifeless, empty. “Do you think Frankie sleeps?”
Lizzie refrained from pointing out that because of drugs, Frankie slept a great part of the time. “You barely eat. You barely sleep. What help will you be to Frankie if you get sick?”
“I won’t get sick,” he muttered. “I never got sick during the war, and things were worse there.”
“Look at you. You’ve lost so much weight your clothes hang.”
He shrugged aside her concern.
“Come now,” she begged. “You’re shivering. Lie down for awhile. At least until you’re warm.” It wasn’t cold making him shiver; it was nerves. If only he would let her comfort him, but he stiffened when she touched him. She lifted a woolen quilt from the trunk. “Here, I’ll cover you with this and lay beside you.”
He eyed the quilt with sudden longing and, to her surprise, let her lead him to the bedroom. He lay on the bed, covering his eyes with his arm as she pulled off his boots. He remained silent as she lay beside him and tucked the quilt around them. The tension in his body was palpable. When he started to relax, his body jerked him back to attention. Lizzie prayed, calming her own fears and worries. She prayed for Caleb and for Frankie and Pearl and their family. As her thoughts focused on God’s promised care, she relaxed against him, hoping he would somehow absorb her peace.
After a long while his breathing deepened, and she knew he had fallen asleep.
Even though her shoulders ached, she didn’t move for fear of waking him. It wasn’t until he snored softly that she cautiously shifted so she could lay her head against his shoulder and drape her arm over his chest. It felt so good to hold him. How she ached for this sort of closeness when he was awake and responding. She didn’t dare think about how much he had changed. Nor what the future held for them.
Sometime during the night, Caleb shifted to his side and lay curled against her, his arm around her waist. She snuggled into his embrace. At least his subconscious mind still reached for her.
Pounding on the door jerked them awake.
Caleb leaped from bed and raced to the door.
Robbie stood in the gray light of early morning, his eyes so wide they looked white. His panting filled the silence. “Mom asked if you would come.”
“I’ll get my boots,” Caleb said.
“Both of you,” Robbie insisted.
“Give me a minute,” Lizzie called from the bedroom. There was only one reason Robbie would come for them. Frankie’s time had come.
She dressed faster than she ever had before. Caleb grabbed her arm, and they practically ran the whole distance to town. Robbie hadn’t bothered to wait for them.
They slipped in quietly without knocking.
Pearl sat at Frankie’s bedside. Robbie dropped to the floor at her feet.
Frankie reached a hand toward them. “I’m glad you could make it,” he whispered.
Lizzie hugged Pearl.
Caleb pulled two chairs close, and they huddled at Frankie’s side.
“I have something I want to say to you.” Frankie’s eyes bored into Caleb. He coughed and struggled for breath.
“You shouldn’t talk,” Caleb protested.
“I have to.”
Caleb nodded. “I’m listening.”
“All six of us signed up together. Dick got it first with a bullet from the Germans. Then August and Gustave got their lungs burned out with gas.” He coughed, ending on a gasp. “I only got a little.” His painful gasps made Lizzie’s lungs ache.
“I thought George would make it, but we found him dead in the trench after that horrible attack.” He paused again to catch his breath. “But I don’t want to talk about them. I want to talk about you.” He fixed Caleb with a piercing gaze. “I been thinking on this some time now so I want you to listen real good.”
Caleb nodded again. “I’m listening.”
“I don’t want to remind you of the others except to say they died out there. At least I get to die in the loving arms of my wife. I get to see my young ones again before I go.”
His voice rasped, and he stopped to cough.
Pearl leaned forward, wiping his brow. “Maybe you should rest, Dear.”
Frankie patted her hand. “I’ll rest in a minute.”
“Caleb.” Frankie pulled Caleb closer. “You’re the only one left, and you been walking around with a long face like you despise your life.”
Caleb didn’t waver from Frankie’s intense stare.
> “Don’t you see, Caleb? You got to make your life count for the rest of us. If you don’t, it will all be for nothing. Don’t you see that?”
Caleb’s gaze bored into Frankie’s eyes.
“You’re all that’s left of us. You got to be our standard bearer. Do you understand?”
The air pulsed with Frankie’s intensity. Caleb stared long and hard into his eyes. Lizzie could almost taste his resistance.
Frankie shook his arm. “Stop feeling guilty about being alive. Do you think any of us would change it? Don’t you see? I’m glad you’ll live on for us.”
Lizzie silently prayed Caleb would respond to Frankie’s words, that this would mark a turning point in his life.
The men looked at each other without blinking; then Caleb shuddered. Frankie nodded. “I know it’s hard to forget. Impossible. But you must look to the future. Love that pretty little wife of yours who is so in love with you that it hurts my eyes the way she watches you.” His breathing was so tortured, he had to stop. “Love her,” he whispered. “Don’t shut her out. Raise a bunch of babies. Live life to the full.” He closed his eyes, exhausted.
Caleb sat back, his feelings hidden behind a stiff mask.
Lizzie prayed Frankie’s words would sink into his heart.
Frankie rested a moment, then opened his eyes and looked about. His gaze fell on his eldest son. “Robbie, come here.”
Robbie knelt at the side of the bed. “Don’t talk, Dad.”
Ignoring his son’s advice, Frankie cradled Robbie’s head in his quivering hand. “Son, you’ve had a heavy load, and you’ve done a fine job. As good as most men could do. I’m so proud of you.”
Robbie ducked his head against his father’s chest. His tears soaked the worn quilt.
“You are my pride and joy. Don’t ever forget how much I love you.”
“I won’t,” Robbie said, his voice choked with tears.
The room grew quiet except for Frankie’s rattling breath. Robbie lifted his head from the covers but remained leaning against his father’s bed.
“I want to see the children,” Frankie whispered.
Pearl nodded to Robbie, and the boy sprang to his feet to get his younger brother and sister.
Lizzie rose, reaching for Caleb, intending to give the family some privacy, but Frankie opened his eyes.
“Stay,” he rasped.
They sank back to their chairs as Robbie led the two younger children to Frankie’s bedside. Frankie reached for Junior.
“I want to hold him,” he whispered, and Pearl lifted the boy to his side.
“Little Frankie.” His father’s voice was an agonizing sound. “My own little boy. I’m so glad I got to see you again.” He held the child close, tears streaming down his face.
Lizzie wiped tears from her cheeks.
“Come here, Violet.”
Pearl pulled Junior to her knee so the little girl could crawl up beside her father.
“My sweet Violet. You’re as pretty as your mother.” He choked and coughed. “I’m so proud of you.” He coughed again and, unable to continue speaking, stroked his daughter’s head.
Violet sobbed softly.
Pearl disentangled the child. “Robbie, take them back to their beds.”
Robbie took a child in each hand, pausing at the door. “Can I come back?”
Pearl nodded. “As soon as they settle.”
Frankie lay back exhausted.
Lizzie and Caleb sat quietly keeping vigil. Pearl shifted closer, holding Frankie’s hand.
Silence, like the darkness of a moonless night, settled around them, broken only by the rasping struggle of Frankie’s breathing and the muted sound of Robbie slipping back into the room.
The morning sun slanted through the window, dropping a patch of warmth out of reach of those who huddled by the bed.
Violet tiptoed into the room, Junior at her heels.
Pearl hugged the children, then whispered to Robbie, “Take them across the road to Mrs. Lawson.”
Frankie twitched at the barely audible sound.
Pearl turned to the younger two. “You stay with Mrs. Lawson. Daddy needs it quiet.”
Violet nodded, taking Junior and leading him from the room. Robbie followed them, returning a short time later.
Frankie’s breathing grew erratic. Lizzie held her own breath every time Frankie’s rasping quit. Sometimes she thought her heart would explode before he gasped another shuddering breath. He opened his eyes once, seeking Pearl, smiled weakly, and again closed his eyes.
The patch of sunlight slid across the room and paused at the doorway. Frankie shuddered once. The room echoed with silence as they waited for his next breath. But Frankie had breathed his last.
Robbie stared at his father’s chest.
Pearl pulled him into her arms, tears flooding her cheeks. “He’s gone, Son. Gone to heaven. Free from his pain.”
Robbie clung to his mother, sobbing quietly.
Caleb pushed stiffly to his feet. “I’ll go get the doctor.” His voice quavered.
Lizzie let the tears flow. She already missed Frankie, but she couldn’t wish him back.
Pearl wiped her eyes. “We have lots to do.”
An honor guard of veterans, including Caleb, dressed in snappy uniforms, carried Frankie’s casket to the church and sat at rigid attention on the front pew during the service.
Pearl and her children sat across from them. Friends and neighbors packed the rest of the church.
Lizzie, sitting beside Robbie, looked around the simple building. It was right Frankie should be buried from a proper church. The sunlight blazed through the window. It touched the simple pine coffin, giving it a golden glow. Lizzie took Robbie’s hand and squeezed.
The children had been wonderful, letting quiet tears flow as they talked about their father.
Pearl, too, seemed to gain inner strength. “I couldn’t wish him back,” she told Lizzie prior to the funeral. “Not to more agony. I know there’ll be some who think I’m strange, but all I can think is that I had him longer than many wives and mothers. For that I’m grateful.”
It was time for Lizzie to go to the front and play her flute in memory of Frankie. She’d chosen one of his favorites, “Amazing Grace.” She looked around the audience as she played, recognizing many. Mother and Father Hughes sat part way back. She watched them a minute. What did they think of her playing in public like this? But she couldn’t let it bother her. She was here for Frankie’s sake. For Pearl and the children.
After the service, they followed the honor guard to the little plot of ground beside the church. Violet buried her face against her mother’s arm as the box lowered into the ground.
Lizzie watched Caleb. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling.
She had tried to talk to him after Frankie’s passing when they’d lain in bed in the comfort of each other’s arms. “What Frankie said made sense. Especially the part about a wife who loves you. I love you so much it scares me sometimes.” It wasn’t her love that scared her. It was the fear that he didn’t return her love.
“I didn’t need Frankie to tell me. I’ve got eyes, too, you know.”
She tried to contain her own annoyance. “Then why do you act as if you neither know nor care whether I love you? Am I invisible? Or is it like Frankie said, you can’t forgive yourself for surviving when the others didn’t?”
Although he didn’t pull away from her, he stiffened, and she knew he only remained where he was in order not to prove her argument right.
“Frankie was half out of his mind.”
“Could be he was, but he still saw the truth far better than you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Frankie saw that you have to put the war behind you and get on with the business of living. Otherwise all those sacrifices the others made were for nothing.”
“I didn’t have any say in who died and who lived. No one asked me if I wanted the burden of proving it
was worthwhile. What if I don’t think it was? What if I think I didn’t deserve to live any more than they deserved to die? What if it was wasted?” He pushed away and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“But, Caleb. You can’t believe that.”
He pressed his fists together. “Why can’t I?”
“Because it would disappoint Frankie.”
He slumped over his knees. “Frankie was my best friend.”
“I know. If for no other reason, you must find a way to live in a manner that would honor his memory.” For my sake, too, she cried silently. For me.
“If only it were that simple. ‘Forget about the past and get on with life.’ ” He groaned. “But I can’t. I don’t know how.”
She had no answer for him. If Frankie couldn’t give him the answers he needed, she could not, for she could only guess at the horrors he had witnessed—horrors that tore at his mind day and night. She sat beside him, clutching his arm, desperately trying to reach him physically and emotionally. “Perhaps you’re wanting it to be too simple. I remember what Frankie said one day, something to the effect that when the bad times came, he blocked them out and forced himself to thank God for all the good things he had.”
“You make it sound as if I’m selfish and stubborn about this.”
“I have no such intention, and I’m sorry if you see it that way. I only want to help you in any way I can.” She swallowed hard. “I feel as if you’re wandering lost and aimless. And away from me.” Her throat constricted, but she forced the words out. “I don’t want to lose you.”
He sighed. “Frankie told me more than once I was shutting you out. I don’t mean to.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “If it weren’t for you, I’m sure I would have lost my mind long ago.”
“Then let me help.”
“How? What can you do?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps it would help if you talked about what’s bothering you.”
He shuddered. “I couldn’t bear to put it in words.”
“Then why don’t you simply come to me and let me hug you instead of turning away when I reach out to comfort you?” Her throat ached at the memory of all the times he had done exactly that.
“Is that what I do?” He sounded surprised.
