by Leisha Kelly
Dad didn’t say anything to Frank. But it wouldn’t have done any good because Frank was already gone.
11
Frank
At first I thought it must be the drinkin’, an’ I was ready to be mad at Pa over doin’ that in the daylight in front a’ Emmie and Bert. But then when Emmie said Bert had brung the mail, somethin’ worse crept over me all the way to my feet, makin’ it hard to walk because I was feelin’ so stiff and cold. What if Pa went all crazy because of a letter? He never could take no kind of bad news.
Something raw started burnin’ at the pit of my stomach, and I was scared and feeling heavy like no weight I ever did know before. What kind of news could be so awful as to make him go half crazy? I knew, but I didn’t want to give it no place in my mind.
I tried my best to run through that timber. Mr. and Mrs. Wortham caught up to me pretty quick. Mrs. Wortham put her arm in mine and stayed with me. But Mr. Wortham run ahead. He could get there faster’n me. But I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t. He disappeared in the trees ahead, and I kept right on going, tryin’ to catch up.
“Frank?” Mrs. Wortham said.
But I didn’t answer. An’ she kept comin’ beside me but didn’t say nothin’ else.
By the time we got to the house, Mr. Wortham was already inside. I didn’t hear a thing. But I’d seen the barn door hangin’ open, and I knew Rorey and Berty hadn’t been able to hold Pa here. He was gone again.
Bert was sittin’ on the floor looking white. Rorey had her apron on, but she’d left the stove unattended and was just sitting in a chair. Mr. Wortham was holdin’ a letter one of ’em must have handed him. I knew it said something awful from the look on his face.
“It’s Joe,” Berty said in a choked little voice, and I wished I was able to snatch the letter and read it for myself.
“What?” I demanded, feelin’ like I was choking too. “What happened?”
Mr. Wortham took a deep breath. “It says he’s missing, son. On an island of the Philippines. He’s unaccounted for after a troop movement there.”
I just stood. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t answer. Missing? No, God. That can’t be right. He’s in your hands. How could he be missing?
I knew I ought to say somethin’ hopeful for Bert and Rorey. I ought to tell them that all kinds of things can happen in a strange place and God’s in charge of them all. Maybe Joe was lost, but he could be found, safe as you or me, maybe even before the day was out. Maybe he already had been found and we’d soon get word. We could believe that. I wanted to tell them so. But I didn’t.
I just sunk, right there on the floor. I didn’t want to. I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do in front of my brother and sister, but some things come on you without leavin’ you any choice, and I felt like I’d been yanked sideways and turned upside down.
This weren’t right! Joe had a heart of gold and a load of faith! Everybody was lookin’ forward to him comin’ home. How could anything happen to him? I should be over there with him. It wouldn’t be so bad if I was the one, if somethin’ was to happen to me.
I told Bert and Rorey they’d better go back with the Worthams to their place. I knew that’d be more comfort than stayin’ here waiting for Pa to get back home. It’d be better if they weren’t even here when he got back. Who knew what shape he’d be in? He prob’ly felt like he’d been slammed down a hole.
“Maybe you should come too,” Mr. Wortham told me. “Stay with the rest at our place and let Emmie and Harry know what’s happened. They’ll need you. And it’s not going to do any good to wait here. I can take the truck and see if I can find your father.”
“I wasn’t gonna wait,” I answered him. “I was gonna head straight to Fraley’s with the other horse an’ get Pa home ’fore he’s clear out of his mind.”
Mr. Wortham nodded. “All right. If you think that’s where he went, I’ll take you in the truck.”
I don’t know why I didn’t let it go like before and let Pa drink if that’s what he was going to do. I guess this was just too different. I wanted him home. I was scared for him not to be home. Or maybe just plain scared, period. I kept thinkin’ of when Mama died, and it seemed like our whole world fell into a thousand pieces and wouldn’t never come right again. I’d carried such a bitter ache for such an awful long time. And Pa had too. He’d almost died over it. I don’t know if the rest of my family understood all that, but I sure did.
“What if Pa comes back ’fore you find him an’ there ain’t nobody here?” Bert asked. He was worried. And he knew we couldn’t leave no note. Pa didn’t read no better’n me. But I told Bert Pa’d know where to find everybody. If we wasn’t at home we’d be at the Worthams. That was just the way things had been with us since Emmie was a baby. Mrs. Wortham pretty much agreed that was right. So Mr. Wortham folded up the army letter and put it in his pocket.
Everybody was quiet walkin’ back through the timber. Bert seemed to have a hard time keeping his feet going. Maybe he was thinkin’ the same kind of things I was. When we got close to the place where Mama was buried, he choked up again, and I put my arm around him. “It’ll be all right,” I told him. But I wasn’t sure I believed it, or if he did either.
God, why? I started praying. Why Joe? Is he dead? Why would you let this happen?
I swallowed hard, feeling shamed to be questionin’ God again. Things had always been so clear to me before. God was the God of everythin’. Sun and moon. Seed and harvest. The earth and the fullness thereof. What was happenin’ to me, that I would start doubtin’ him and thinkin’ so uncertain? My mind was full of questions I didn’t know how to stop.
Are you here, God? Are you takin’ a hand in this at all?
The tears I had to fight off then were for Joe. But they were also because now when I really needed to be strong, to hold on to faith and give my brothers and sisters and maybe even my pa some kind of hope, it was slippin’ away from me. I just wanted to keep crying “Why?” over and over. And I hated it. I hated to admit to myself and especially to God that I was pitiful weak in the faith I wanted to be so strong in. I felt like I was failin’ everybody. God and my pa and all my family. But especially Joe. I oughta believe for him. I oughta stand in faith, insistin’ everything was all right. But in my heart, I couldn’t shake the awful feelin’ that Joe was already gone.
12
Sarah
Dear Robert,
We got terrible news today. I didn’t want to tell you, except I knew you’d want to know. Joe is missing in action. Mom says there’s always hope, even though the official letter didn’t sound very hopeful. I’m not sure if you should tell William. The rest of his family is taking this awfully hard.And there you are still starting out. I hate to burden you with something so awful, but I knew you’d be upset if nobody told you. Maybe William would be too.
I know Mom will write you a letter, and probably Katie again too, but I had already started one and thought I’d best sit down and try to finish. I pray for both of you there.And for Joe, wherever he is. And Kirk. Do you think the army will tell Kirk about this? We’re not sure if he’s been getting our most recent letters because he said there would be a new address and he still hasn’t sent it. At least our letters haven’t been returned. But not hearing from him is worrying everybody too.
Robert, pray for Willy’s father. And the kids. They’re so scared right now. I wish I could send you only the letter I started before and just tell you about school and planting and things around home. But now it’s different. Mr.Hammond’s in a bad way. He ran off and started drinking, and when Dad and Frank brought him home he was carrying on crazy.
I just don’t understand things. Why does stuff like this have to happen? Why does the world have to be so hard? Maybe you’re asking yourself the same things and I’m being no help at all. I’m so sorry. But I love you, Robert. You’re a good big brother. I feel like I could tell you anything. Even when you’re far away. I miss you so much.
Your sister,
&
nbsp; Sarah
I folded the letter and put it in an envelope to mail. I felt like we were all carrying six tons of extra weight that we couldn’t shake loose.
For the next few days, Mr. Hammond didn’t talk to anybody. Rorey got a job at the five-and-dime in Dearing and rode back and forth every day without saying much to anybody either.
She kept writing to Lester, and I kept writing to Robert and Willy. But for a while we didn’t get an answer from them. That was hard. Rorey told me she dreamed that everybody that went away on that train was coming home in boxes. I told her she better not tell Emma Grace that. Or anybody else.
Finally, about three weeks later, the mail brought letters from Robert. One for Mom and Dad. One for Katie. And one for me.
May 18, 1942
Dear Sarah,
Willy and I thank you for the letters. Sorry you had to wait to get an answer. We got a new commanding officer, and he says there’s no question that we’ll be sent overseas. He said he wants us to get used to feeling far from home. So he made us wait a week before getting any mail, and another week before sending any out. He says that’s “sweet potatoes”compared to how long mail’s going to take later.
Awful hard news about Joe. I couldn’t sleep the first night after I read your letter, but I showed it to Willy right away because I knew he’d be mad if I didn’t. He’s still glad he’s here. Maybe even more so now. Like this war just got personal for him. That scares me a little, Sis, but I sure understand him. If we could do anything to help Joe or anybody like him we would. Gladly. There’s evil at work in this world, and God has raised up the United States military to fight it. I’m proud of that, and I want you to be too. So keep praying for Joe, but don’t worry about me. Okay?
I got a letter from Rachel too. She said she’s praying that God will give us peace in this time of being apart, make us stronger, and give us a greater understanding of himself.Of course I agree with all that. Except I’d have to admit, at least to you, that the last part makes me nervous. Did you ever feel like God’s got things all planned? I don’t mean that he did anything to Joe, just that he knows all about it. He always knows what’s down the road for us. And I’ve had a feeling for a while that he’s waiting on me. I don’t know why. To do something maybe, but I don’t know what.
I used to think that because Rachel’s so religious, she couldn’t be the one for me. Cause I’m not like that. You know me. I like a good baseball game better than church, and I’m not even holy enough to be afraid to admit it.
I used to think Rachel would be a good girlfriend for Franky because they were always the quietest kids in church, remember? More than anybody else our age they’d listen and take it all in, like Mom and Dad do. And I wasn’t ready for that. That’s why I waited so long to talk to Rachel, in spite of my feelings for her. I figured Franky’d notice her, and they’d end up pastoring a church somewhere together someday. Do you think that was silly? I even asked Franky once if he liked her. And he said he loved his church family and she’s a real sincere girl, but he had nothing specially personal her direction. Don’t that sound like him?
You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all this, and I’m not sure I even know. But, Sarah, I’ve got a feeling there’s a lot on Franky’s shoulders right now, and it’s bound to stay that way a while. I know how bad he wanted to serve, but I expect God has him home because that’s where we need him most. I hope he’s not taking it too hard about Joe. Help him if you get a chance, okay, Sis? You know how things have been with him and his pa, and it sounds like it’s even harder now. I’ve been praying for all of them like you said.
I miss all of you, more than I thought I would. I think about you all the time. Especially at night when I’m trying to sleep. So I’ve been repeating Rachel’s prayer for all of us. I love you always,
Robert
13
Julia
Having mail from Robert was a blessed relief. Samuel took our letter over to share with George as soon as we were finished. Willy didn’t like writing letters, so Robert had included several paragraphs from Willy to his father, as he’d done so many times before.
They were shaken up about Joe. Perhaps angry more than anything else. And training for conflict in the Pacific. Of course that made me nervous. Picking a mess of peas in the spring sunshine, I thought about the reports we’d heard on the radio, the tragic losses. And I guess I got mad too. Our young men were at risk, and nothing should stop us from doing everything we could to help. I decided that the sugar bowl where we tried to collect change would now be drawing savings to go to war bonds if we could manage it. There should be no buying anything else, unless it was absolutely necessary.
That was the first time I considered that Samuel going away to work might be better for the war effort even if it wasn’t better for me. He’d had the kind of factory experience that would be valuable in a defense plant. He wouldn’t need much training. But working the farms was important too, and I wasn’t sure whether George and his sons could handle both farms without Samuel. Especially now.
“I’m sure George was relieved to hear from William,” Samuel told me when he got back from the Hammond farm. “But he’s not saying much. He told me he’s fine, but I know better just looking in his eyes.”
I wondered about George as I finished picking the peas. He always did his best to act all right in front of Samuel. Even when he’d been walking stiffer through part of the winter, he’d done his best not to show it to Samuel. I was glad the stiffness had seemed to disappear. But George’d been so wild-eyed and unreasonable after that official letter came that I knew he wasn’t really all right. It was normal to worry. Or to be in a state of shock, anger, or despair. But there was something different about George somehow. Something that made me wonder if he had the wherewithal to continue with the farmwork, or even get through this at all.
I prayed for him, right there in the garden. And I prayed for Emmie and Bert and the rest. It had to be hard for them about Joe, but their father’s reaction made things even harder. Samuel said George had been in bed when he took Robert’s letter over. And we had a lot of sun left to the day. He didn’t claim to be sick. He didn’t claim anything at all.
With a sigh, I looked around me at our yard of May flowers. Emma Graham had loved the flowers. When she gave us this farm, just over ten years ago, she’d asked us to keep up the flowers, and plant more, clear to the road. She’d had a lot of ideas how we could take care of the place. But she’d also expected us to take care of the Hammonds, though that hadn’t been clear to us at first. She’d known all along that they would need our help, and that we should end up being about the same as one family.
We’d managed with the kids all right, at least the best we knew how. But it wasn’t so easy with George. There were times when I thought he shouldn’t have needed so much of our help, at least not for so many years. And yet, when he needed help the most was when he wanted it the least.
I sat by the side of the well, by the bluebells and the dayflowers, and shelled out the peas in the sunshine. What might Robert be doing at this very minute? And what about Joe? I tried to imagine a positive explanation for his disappearance but couldn’t come up with anything that made real sense. And the negative possibilities were painful to think about. Yet it didn’t seem right not to think about him. We couldn’t just go about our days as though nothing had happened. Maybe George’s extreme reaction was the only way he knew to honor his son.
We had to carry on with things, of course. There was so much work to do around us. But shutting down, at least for a while, drawing back from things and going to bed in the middle of the day might be George’s way of keeping Joe in his thoughts through this trial. It wasn’t good for the rest of his family, but we could certainly understand and be patient with him while we waited for more word.
I decided to make cookies again once supper was out of the way. I’d saved back several small boxes just for mailing packages, and I could send the biggest of
those full of cookies for Robert and Willy to share. And Joe loved cookies, especially snickerdoodles, which I hadn’t made since Christmas time. I’d package a box for him and mail it to the address we had. And then pray that he’d have a chance to enjoy his cookies too.
Surely we’d be getting word before long of him getting back to his unit or his base. Maybe he’d been hurt and lost, or had to hide in that strange place. Maybe he was in a hospital hankering to write us a letter to relieve our worrying. He was a brave, sensible young man.
My thoughts turned to Kirk as well. Unlike Joe, he hadn’t planned his military service. He’d been called in the peacetime draft and was less than happy about it at first. But he’d accepted duty well enough and even decided before he left that he’d probably like the army and would gain all he could from the training.
George Hammond had good boys. There’d been some trials, sure. The kind of antics you might expect from boys, especially from Willy and Harry. But over all, they’d been growing to fine young men. There were people at church who said that was because of Samuel and me. But George was still their father, and most of them remembered their mother. I thought it at least partly true that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, despite George’s problems.
Katie had been across the field picking red clover for tea. I could see her on her way back with her basket full. I’d only made clover blossom tea occasionally until she took a liking to it a couple of summers back. Now she’d gather it herself and set a jar out in the sun to steep for the family. Sweetened with sugar and cooled in the cellar or down the well, it was a nice treat, though Samuel said it tasted a little too much like hay for his liking.
