Charlotte smiled. “That sounds like a lovely memory.”
“One of the best. My father indulged my new obsession and paid for flying lessons, and on my eighteenth birthday, he bought me a plane. It was an old, damaged biplane in need of repairs. I soon got her flying. She doesn’t go as fast as a monoplane, but she has character.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what happened to her. I joined the war and couldn’t pay for the hangar. I had no other place to put her. I was renting a one-bedroom apartment in New York City. You can’t exactly park a biplane on Seventh Avenue.” He chuckled.
Will glanced over Charlotte’s shoulder, confusion clouding his eyes.
“Do you know that man?”
She turned her head. The man Will spoke of wasn’t hard to find. He wore a black suit and held his fedora at his side. His normally slick hair was disheveled. He stood next to Mrs. Farrell and Nurse Parker, staring straight at her.
“That’s Nick’s father. I wonder what he’s doing here.” She turned back to Will. His face had paled. “Please excuse me.”
Charlotte stood and walked toward Mr. Adler. Fear sprung in her chest, sending her heart racing. There was no reason for him to visit under amiable circumstances. She’d never seen him unless she was with Nick or Mrs. Adler.
Mr. Adler’s shoulders drooped. His eyes were glassy. A slip of paper was folded between his fingers. “There’s been a telegram. I’m so sorry,” he said, staring at the linoleum floor.
Charlotte didn’t need to read the telegram to know what it said.
Her worst fear had come true.
Nick had been killed.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Her knees buckled, and Mr. Adler caught her before she fell to the floor. She clutched his suit jacket as she wept, working herself into hysterics.
Mr. Adler handed her a handkerchief. “Let me take you home. Where’s your coat?”
Nurse Parker stepped forward. “Let’s move this into the hallway. I’ll get her belongings for you.” She led them out of the ward and then ran to the nurses’ lounge. She returned and handed Charlotte’s pocketbook and wool coat to Mr. Adler.
He draped the coat over Charlotte’s shoulders and led her outside. She leaned against him the entire way, her feet shuffling beneath her.
The car ride to her house passed in a blur. She cried into the handkerchief throughout. This had to be a nightmare. Please God let it be a nightmare, one from which she’d soon awake. Only yesterday, she received one of Nick’s letters. He was safe. They were meant to be together. How could he be gone?
Mr. Adler parked in front of the Donahues’ house. He helped her out of the car and ushered her up the walkway to the porch. He knocked on the front door while she buried her nose in the handkerchief. Her mother answered, smiling.
She took one look at Charlotte and her expression fell. “Oh my God. Bring her inside.”
Mrs. Donahue led them into the kitchen. She sat Charlotte at the table and poured a glass of water, urging her daughter to drink, as Mr. Adler explained the telegram.
Charlotte’s hand trembled so badly she spilled water on her lap as she took her first sip. It soaked into the fabric of her Red Cross uniform, lost among her tears. Her engagement ring sparkled as the diamond caught the light above. Her heart squeezed. She felt numb . . . lost. This couldn’t be real.
Her mother handed Nick’s father a glass of water. “How is Barbara handling it?”
“About as well as Charlotte.” He gripped the cup with both hands. “She locked herself in the bedroom this morning. The housekeeper called me at the office to tell me to come home. I discovered the telegram on the floor near the door.”
Mrs. Donahue brushed tears from her eyes. “Thank you for bringing Charlotte home. I’m truly sorry for your loss. If you and Barbara need anything at all, Thomas and I are only a phone call away.”
“Thank you, Helen.” He gulped down the rest of the water and handed the empty glass back to her. “I should return to my wife.”
“Of course. Please give her our condolences.”
“I will.” Mr. Adler turned to Charlotte. “I’m sorry.” With a final nod, he placed his fedora on his head and showed himself out.
After a few moments of hesitation, Mrs. Donahue helped her daughter from the chair. “Let’s get you into bed.”
In her bedroom, Charlotte removed her coat and uniform, stripping down to her slip. Her mother tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead. “I’ll call your father. Can I get you anything?”
Charlotte closed her eyes and shook her head. She didn’t want anything except Nick.
“Try to sleep,” her mother said. Seconds later, her footsteps echoed on the stairs as she made her way down to the main floor.
Charlotte flipped onto her side and curled her knees into her chest. She opened her eyes and stared at the framed, black and white photograph on the nightstand of her and Nick. It had been taken on their beach trip last summer. She picked up the frame and held it near, tracing Nick’s features with her finger. This was as close to touching him she’d ever get. Sobs overwhelmed her. She laid the photograph on the bed next to her pillow and closed her swollen eyelids, praying for her love to come home safe and sound.
***
“What time did she fall asleep?”
“Around three-thirty.”
A hand pressed against Charlotte’s forehead. She opened her eyes. Her father sat on the edge of her bed. Her mother stood behind him with her arms crossed. Nick’s death must have been a dream. But then why was she in her childhood bedroom and not in her dorm room? Her eyes hurt, and there was a gnawing emptiness in her stomach. The picture frame on her nightstand wasn’t in its normal position.
One look at her parents’ worried expressions confirmed it wasn’t a dream.
Charlotte’s father drew her into his arms as she cried. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her nose into his uniform that smelled of tobacco. The aroma reminded her of her childhood when she used to cry into his shoulder after a nightmare or a fall in the yard. It didn’t soothe her as it used to.
She drew away and stared at her left hand. She rotated the engagement ring around her finger. The piece of jewelry once symbolized her and Nick’s love and happiness. Now, it conveyed a whole new meaning. From now on, the ring would be a constant reminder of a promise that would never come to fruition.
Seventeen
Exams prevented Charlotte from holing herself up for the rest of the week. She returned to Trinity College the next morning to prepare for a history exam that afternoon. She would fail. There was no way she’d be able to focus in her grief. She didn’t even care. What was the point when men were being killed? All of it was meaningless.
To Charlotte’s relief, her friends already knew of her circumstances. Natalie had been the one to direct Mr. Adler to the Army Medical Center after he’d shown up at the college to break the news. After his departure, Evelyn and Sandra had spent the rest of the afternoon comforting Natalie, who feared that John had also been killed.
Natalie and Charlotte hardly spoke to each other in the days that followed. Natalie seemed afraid to mention Nick, and Charlotte didn’t have any reassurances to offer Natalie regarding John’s safety. By the end of the week, Natalie received another letter from John. She didn’t share any details from the note, though she did say it was written prior to Nick’s death.
Charlotte refused to remove her engagement ring. If she took it off, she’d blemish Nick’s memory and the promise she made to never stop loving him, no matter what. Neither did she return to the Army Medical Center. The soldiers were bound to ask her what was wrong. She couldn’t tell them her fiancé had been killed, nor was she in a state to offer them moral support.
Instead, she spent most of her time sitting in her dorm room. Her notes and textbooks were open in front of her, but she didn’t study. For several hours a day, she lamented her loss.
In her mind, she replayed the e
vents of Tuesday afternoon when Mr. Adler delivered the tragic news. She also remembered the night she and Nick first met and all the moments they shared: their dates, the night Nick asked her to marry him, and the first and only time they made love. Their relationship was so perfect, and their marriage would have been just as wonderful, if not more so.
But now she was alone.
If only Nick hadn’t enlisted in the war. If only the Japanese hadn’t attacked Pearl Harbor. If only Hitler hadn’t invaded Poland . . . None of this would have happened. Nick would still be alive and they’d be happily married.
As Charlotte returned with Sandra from the dining hall after lunch on Friday, Mrs. Lloyd caught her attention from the front desk. “Charlotte, you have a letter.”
She took the letter from the matron. Nick’s handwriting was on the envelope. Tears surged into her eyes. It seemed cruel that more of his letters would arrive for her. She ducked her head and staggered toward the staircase.
Sandra accompanied Charlotte up to her room and paused in the doorway. “Do you want me to be there with you when you open it?”
Charlotte gave her a small smile. “I’ll be all right. Thank you, though.”
Sandra nodded and left.
Charlotte entered her room and closed the door. Sitting upon her bed, she stared at Nick’s letter for several minutes, building up the strength to read it. Finally, she opened it.
November 27, 1942
Charlotte,
I want to wish you Happy Thanksgiving. I know you won’t get this for a couple more weeks, but in this war, it’s always nice to remember that somewhere out there, people are celebrating. Perhaps you had Thanksgiving dinner with your family, and you ate turkey, green beans, and biscuits, with gravy and cranberry sauce on the side—and then for dessert, pumpkin pie. What I wouldn’t do for a piece of pumpkin pie!
We didn’t have an authentic Thanksgiving dinner, but we have a lot to be thankful for. I’m thankful for the friends I’ve made over the past few months, even those I’ve lost. I’m thankful to be alive and not badly injured (sunburns don’t count in the grand scheme of things). Most of all, I’m thankful for you and all your support. I just received your first letter, and I was beyond ecstatic. Nothing could dampen my mood yesterday. John said I must’ve been the happiest son of a bitch in this country. But that’s what you do to me, Charlotte—you make me the happiest man alive.
I love you more than words can describe. I look forward to your next letter.
Love,
Nick
Charlotte collapsed onto the bed as sobs retched from her throat, shaking her entire body. Nick’s letter about his life and how much he was grateful for broke her heart. When he composed that letter, he had no idea what would soon come.
***
On Monday, Natalie came back from her last exam holding a telegram. “John’s alive! He sent me a wire to let me know he’s all right.”
Charlotte managed a small smile. “I got another letter.”
Natalie frowned. “From Nick again? Have you opened it?”
“No. Though I guess now is as good a time as any.”
Charlotte picked up the envelope and scanned its contents.
December 1, 1942
Dearest Charlotte,
Can you believe it’s been almost a year since our engagement? It doesn’t seem like that long ago I drove you to the Mall and you kept rambling on about Paris. I was so nervous, you wouldn’t believe. I was pretty sure you’d accept my proposal, but I was so afraid something would happen to ruin the moment. Thankfully, you said yes. It was one of the best nights of my entire life.
Sometimes, when I’m trying to sleep, I wonder how we would have turned out had Pearl Harbor not happened. Assuming nothing else occurred that would pull the U.S. into the war, we’d be together. You’d have set a wedding date in the spring or the summer, and by now, we’d be married. You’d be at home, and I’d be in law school.
But I guess there’s no use in going over the what-ifs. These are the cards we’ve been dealt. I must go. I’ll write you again soon.
Love,
Nick
Charlotte folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. She stood from the bed and removed a round hat box from her wardrobe. Inside, Nick’s letters were bundled together with a satin ribbon. The story of their love. She still loved Nick, but he was gone, and her heart had perished with him. Now the letters were painful reminders of what she had lost, something she could never reclaim.
She untied the ribbon. She grabbed the most recent letter from Nick and tore it in two. And then she tore it again . . . and again . . . and again until it resembled confetti. She threw the bits of paper onto the floor and reached into the box to continue.
Natalie stole the box from her. “Don’t do this. You’ll regret it.”
“Why would I regret it? He’s not coming back.”
Natalie sighed. “I understand why you’d want to destroy them, but you’ll wish you hadn’t. They’re an important part of your life.”
Charlotte snatched the box back from Natalie. “You understand? What do you understand? You have absolutely no idea what I’m going through! John’s alive, and Nick is dead! You have no right to say you understand anything!”
Natalie slapped Charlotte across her cheek. Charlotte’s eyes widened and she brought one hand to her face.
Natalie used that moment to steal the box away. “You’ll thank me for this one day.” She marched out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
Natalie didn’t return until late that night when Charlotte was already in bed, pretending to be asleep. She said nothing and stared at the ceiling as Natalie prepared for bed. Even though it was unfair, Charlotte resented her. The man Natalie loved was alive. The man Charlotte loved no longer existed except in her memories.
***
Charlotte slept late into Tuesday morning. When she awoke, Natalie was packing her suitcase. The fall semester had ended, and she’d return to her family in Grand Rapids for the holidays.
Charlotte sat up and stretched her arms.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Natalie said. “My train leaves in a couple hours and I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye. Do you want to grab some lunch with me before I go to the station?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Natalie’s expression fell. “Right. I understand.” She sat on the edge of Charlotte’s bed. “I’m sorry I can’t be there on Friday.”
Charlotte scowled. “And I’m sorry Nick’s funeral doesn’t work with your schedule.”
“I tried to switch my ticket, I swear.”
Charlotte said nothing.
“Anyway, call if you need me or if you want to talk. I don’t care what time it is, I’ll be available.” She reached out for a hug, and Charlotte embraced her half-heartedly. “You’ll pull through this. I know you will.”
Charlotte faked a smile. “Thanks.”
Natalie stood from the bed and adjusted her long wool skirt. “Well, I guess I’ll head to Union Station early and get some lunch at the cafeteria.” She closed her valise and held it at her side. “Have a Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Charlotte muttered.
Eighteen
Friday, the eighteenth of December was the date Nicholas James Adler was laid to rest. The sky was overcast, and a frigid wind whistled through the bare trees at Arlington National Cemetery. An American flag flew at half-mast on a building in the distance, memorializing the military funerals that would be performed throughout the day.
Charlotte stood beside her mother, inspecting the dozen of soldiers who would orchestrate the funeral proceedings. As soon as she’d arrived, Charlotte spotted Frankie, her friend from the Army Medical Center and Sandra’s new beau. He’d grimaced when he noticed her, but that was all. He was on duty and stood at attention, so he couldn’t speak to her. Not that he could’ve said anything to make her feel better.
The funeral was private, aside from th
e soldiers. Mrs. Adler wore a black hat with a veil. She leaned on Mr. Adler for support as she sniffled into a handkerchief. The only other attendees were the Adlers’ priest and Charlotte’s mother.
The hearse arrived and an attendant opened the back door. The casket had an American flag draped over the top. Eight of the soldiers marched to the hearse, removed the casket, carried it to the black horse-drawn carriage, and placed it on the back. A few of the officers saluted, and the priest led the procession of the caisson, soldiers, and loved ones to the gravesite.
“Are you cold? I can give you my scarf,” her mother whispered into her ear as they walked behind the carriage. Charlotte shook her head. She liked that the wind numbed her body. It might make the ceremony less painful.
She kept her eyes trained on the casket. Nick was inside, or at least, what used to be Nick. His soul was in a better place. She took some comfort in that.
It wasn’t a long trek to the ceremony location. The horses pulling the caisson stopped, and the pallbearers lifted the casket and escorted it to the gravesite. Nick’s parents, Charlotte, and her mother sat in the handful of chairs situated graveside. The soldiers placed the casket on the liner and lifted the flag, holding it taut. A senior officer assured it was centered, and the flag was replaced on Nick’s casket, the blue section with white stars covering his left shoulder. The casket team marched back into formation. The priest stepped forward and the service began.
Battle Hymns Page 10
