The Amazon Quest (House of Winslow Book #25)

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Dear Mom and Dad and Wes and Emily,

  I can’t dictate much. I’m not doing well at all, I’m sorry to report. My wounds have gotten infected, and the doctor’s also afraid that I have pneumonia.”

  Aaron paused then, his eyes running ahead, and when he looked up, the other three saw that he was stricken with worry.

  “What is it, Aaron?” Gail said, her voice trembling.

  Aaron read in a voice that was unlike his own:

  “I may not make it back home. Don’t grieve over me if I don’t come back. Think of me but don’t grieve. And be kind to James. He’s been my best friend.”

  Aaron went over to Gail and put his arm around her. “We’ll have to pray that he will make it. God can do all things.”

  Gail could not speak. She turned and put her arms around Aaron, and he held her.

  Wes was staring at the letter in disbelief. “I thought he was doing so well.”

  Emily saw that there was another sheet of paper. She could barely speak, but she said, “Dad, is that from James?”

  “What . . . oh yes. You read it, Emily.”

  Emily took the sheet of paper and saw that it was very brief:

  “I wrote Jared’s words down. It took quite some time, for he is very weak.

  I wish I had a better report, but I must say that the doctors are not hopeful. I have gotten very close to Jared while I’ve been here, and I would do anything in the world to help him. I would even give my life for him, but, of course, that’s impossible.

  From what Jared has told me, you are all praying people, and I think prayer is all that will help him now. I will write as often as I can.

  Your faithful friend,

  James Parker”

  A silence fell over the room then, and Emily could stand it no longer. She turned and walked away. The thought of Jared not coming back was too overwhelming. When she got to her room, she fell onto the bed and began to weep silently, pressing her fists against her lips. She tried to pray, but it seemed that was impossible.

  ****

  The next letter came four days later. It was in a strange handwriting, and as soon as Aaron took it and saw the official seal, he knew the truth. His lips grew tight, and he opened it while the others waited. Emily held on to Wes’s arm and watched her father’s lips as he formed the words, “We regret to inform you that your son, Jared Winslow, died of his wounds in the hospital.” Aaron stopped and bowed his head, and the letter fell to the kitchen floor. Gail cried out and started to sob. He reached for her to comfort her, but he could not say another word, for his own grief constricted his throat.

  Emily watched the letter fall, and as it lay on the floor, she knew her life would never be the same again. The tears flowed down her parents’ faces, and then she listened as her father picked the letter up and read the comments from Jared’s commanding officer, Captain Clark Ramsay. He said that Jared was a fine soldier, and he told how all the men had respected him and admired his immovable faith in the face of death.

  “But that doesn’t matter now. He’s dead.” Emily stood there, her face pale, and she seemed to hear the beating of her own heart as a distant drum throbbing slowly. “Why did my brother have to die? God, why did you let it happen?” She waited for an answer but none came, and then she turned and walked out of the room, feeling more alone than she had ever felt in her entire life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  An Unexpected Visitor

  The year 1918 brought untold death and misery before the war finally culminated with the signing of the armistice on November the eleventh. Silence had fallen over the battlefields of Europe, and after the Germans signed the treaty at five in the morning, the cease-fire took effect six hours later. The Great War was finally over, but the massive loss of life and destruction had left devastating scars all across Europe.

  For America the last year and a half had been like no other in her history. The strain of sending millions of American young men to fight in a war in Europe had drained the country of some of her confidence. After the first flush of excitement with all the parades and speeches containing flowery promises that America would save the world, the country settled down to the long haul of fighting a slow and agonizing war. No one knew how long it would take or how many young men would have to die before the goal was achieved.

  Russia also turned a corner in her history during this year. The reigning Czar Nicholas II and his family were deposed by the revolutionary forces led by Vladimir Ilich Ulyanov, known to his followers as Lenin. The huge country, after having rid itself of the centuries-old monarchy, set up a government under Lenin. The new state quickly confiscated estates and nationalized land banks and industry, and in March of 1918 Russia withdrew from World War I. But there was no peace for the masses. Civil war swept the country, and in the struggle that ensued, the carnage cost the Motherland millions of lives and untold destruction.

  To legitimize the authority of the new state, Lenin knew he must do more than simply depose the old order. On July the sixteenth, Nicholas, his wife, Alexandria, and their five children were ordered to the cellar of their house. The family went downstairs suspecting nothing but were met by a hail of bullets from a hastily assembled firing squad.

  Throughout Europe, as family after family were informed of the deaths of their young men on the battlefield, a mysterious and virulent strain of influenza appeared without warning, creating a new and even deadlier enemy right in people’s homes. America was struck by this same disease, now known as the Spanish flu—so called for the rapacity of its attack in Spain. It swept around the world, infecting six continents. In the United States, San Francisco passed ordinances mandating the wearing of surgical masks, and Chicago movie theaters refused to admit coughing patrons. Historians said grimly that half the world’s population was touched by this terrible and virulent disease.

  The Winslows did their part during this difficult time. They bought liberty bonds to support the war effort. They followed the newspaper accounts of the terrible battles that were taking place and rejoiced over the exploits of America’s war heroes—men such as Alvin Cullum York, who led a successful attack on a German machine-gun emplacement. York captured one hundred thirty-two prisoners and thirty-five machine guns. He was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor and the French Croix de Guerre. Eddie Rickenbacker clinched his title as America’s number one flying ace.

  And so the armistice finally came, but the nations of Europe were decimated. The kaiser fled to Holland, and Germany was heavily penalized, losing all lands she had sought to gain through force. No battle had destroyed Germany’s fertile soil, but its economy was in shreds. More than ten million people had died in the war, including six million civilians. Even after all that carnage, no one was really sure why the war had begun. The world could only hope that the armistice would bring a lasting peace and that never again would they have to face another great war.

  ****

  “Cap’n Brown, come on. You’re not going to catch that squirrel. Don’t you ever learn?”

  Emily was tramping through the woods with Cap’n Brown by her side. Snow had fallen the previous day, and the temperature had dropped enough so that it remained on the ground. As always she enjoyed walking on an unbroken carpet of crystalline white and had left the house at four o’clock to take a walk before dark. The woods looked like a winter wonderland, and as Cap’n Brown rushed about in his hopeless quest to catch a squirrel, Emily lifted her head and looked up at the tops of the trees. The leaves were gone, and the oaks and hickories lifted their naked arms to the sky, almost as if they were in prayer. The sky itself was steel gray, a solid canopy without a single break in the color. The night would come soon now, and Emily walked faster. She had come far from home, and her feet made a crunching sound as they broke through the thin, frozen crust.

  Finally she reached the pond she and Jared and Wes had enjoyed for so long. She paused at the side and then finally sat down on the old cedar tree that had fallen five years earl
ier. She knew it would lie there for many years, for the cedar did not rot as did the pines and hardwoods. The quietness that fell upon her from her surroundings was profound. From far away she could faintly hear the sound of a dog barking. For a long time Emily sat there, her heart and mind persistently dwelling on memories of Jared. It had been a year since his death, but she still thought about him almost every waking moment. When the letter had first come, starkly pronouncing his death, she had gone about her life almost in a trance. For a time she had cried herself to sleep every night and went through each day wishing it were already over. Even after all this time, she had not truly accepted his death. There had been no final good-bye beside a deathbed. There had been no body to bury at his funeral. She could hardly bear the pain of knowing that he lay in some hastily dug grave somewhere in France. As the realization struck her again of how cheated she felt, she flung her arms wide and cried out into the cold evening air, “Oh, God, why did you have to take him? Why?”

  Her impassioned cry shook the silence of the woods and brought Cap’n Brown to her side. He whined and poked her arm with his muzzle, looking up with troubled eyes.

  Emily threw her arms around the large dog and held him. Suddenly into her mind came a poem by Christina Rossetti. It was one she had always loved and had memorized to recite once for her English class at school. The words forced their way through her mind as she buried her face in Cap’n Brown’s thick fur:

  When I am dead, my dearest,

  Sing no sad songs for me;

  Plant thou no roses at my head,

  Nor shady cypress tree;

  Be the green grass above me

  With showers and dew drops wet;

  And if thou wilt, remember,

  And if thou wilt, forget.

  I shall not see the shadows,

  I shall not feel the rain;

  I shall not hear the nightingale

  Sing on, as if in pain;

  And dreaming through the twilight

  That doth not rise nor set,

  Haply I may remember,

  And haply may forget.

  The words ran through Emily’s mind, and the tears rose again. She held on to Cap’n Brown, who nuzzled her gently, and finally she cried out, “He’s gone, Cap’n, he’s gone!”

  Emily rose to her feet and wiped her face with her sleeve, then started back home. Her somber mood made the woods seem grim and ominous now. The death of her brother had affected her more deeply than anything ever had in her whole life. She knew the whole family was still suffering from their loss, although she believed she had suffered the most. There was no reason for her to think this way, for she knew the deep love that her parents had always had for Jared. But Jared had been more than her brother. He had been her best friend and the only one who truly understood her.

  To rid herself of the thought, she broke into a trot, and Cap’n Brown kept pace by her side. By the time she reached the edge of her neighborhood, the night had closed in so fast that the darkness seemed almost physical. As she reached her block she slowed down to a walk. When she was in front of the home of their next-door neighbors, the Carletons, she slowed her pace and stopped abruptly. There in the dim light she could see a man wearing a long overcoat and hobbling on a cane. He had come to the sidewalk that led to the front porch of her house, and she saw that he was peering in the darkness, apparently looking for the number.

  Emily came to a full halt and suddenly her mouth felt very dry. Dark as it was, she could tell that he was wearing the khaki overcoat of a soldier of the American Expeditionary Force. She watched as he took a halting step, leaning on his cane. He took several such steps forward down the driveway. She was surprised when he halted, stared at the house for a moment, then turned and limped back toward the street. She hastened toward him as he started back in the direction of town. As she drew near him he turned to face her.

  “Are you looking for someone?” Emily asked.

  A short silence separated his reply, and then he said awkwardly, “I guess not.”

  Something about the man disturbed Emily. His hesitation as he approached her house, then his rapid turning away was strange. She took a step closer and leaned forward. “I’m Emily Winslow. Can I help you?”

  The man was a little under six feet tall. In the glare of the streetlight she could make out that his eyes were gray, and he had a thin face, rather aristocratic, she thought. Suddenly she drew her breath up short and blurted out, “You’re James Parker, aren’t you?” She saw the face change, and then he nodded. “I’m so glad to meet you, James.” She put out her hand, and awkwardly the soldier switched the cane to his left hand and took hers. His hand seemed thin and cold and somehow unsteady to her. “You were coming to see us, weren’t you?”

  “Well, yes I was, but—”

  “Well, come on. This is the place.”

  “It’s . . . not a convenient time, I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Emily smiled. She felt a warmth rise within her, a warmth she had not felt since Jared’s death. Now she simply took his arm and turned him around. “It’s cold out here. Come on in and meet the family.”

  Parker reluctantly moved forward, and Emily opened the door and turned to face him. “Come in.” She let him enter, and then she called out, “Dad—!” When her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall, Emily said, “Mom, look who’s here! This is James Parker.”

  Gail at once came forward, her face exuberant. “Why, what a surpise. I’m so glad you’ve come, James! Here, take that coat off and come into the living room.”

  Parker said haltingly, “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “How could you be that?” Gail said. She took the coat and hung it on the hall tree. At that moment Aaron emerged from his study, and Gail said, “Look who’s here, dear. It’s James Parker.”

  Aaron’s expression was one of disbelief and joy. He came forward and put his hand out. “I’m honored to finally meet you. Why, you’re just in time for supper.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly—” James began.

  But Aaron quickly interrupted. “No argument now.” He turned to Gail and asked, “How long before we can feed this man, and me, too?”

  “Give me another ten minutes, dear.”

  “Fine. Come on in by the fire, James. It’s gotten pretty cold out there. When did you get in?”

  Emily accompanied the two men into the living room and watched as Aaron practically forced the young man to take a seat in front of the fire and peppered him with questions. Studying James’s face under a brighter light, she saw that he was a well-proportioned man with a wiry frame. He had tawny hair, longer than most men usually wore it, and she noted that it had a slight curl to it. His gray eyes were deep-set, and he had a short English nose and a slight cleft in his determined chin. His hands looked strong, but his fingers were long, like a musician’s or a surgeon’s. He was pale and drawn, and when she had a chance, she asked, “When did you get out of the hospital, James?”

  Parker turned toward her, saying, “I was in the field hospital in France several months before they could ship me home. I’ve been recuperating and going through therapy ever since in an army hospital in Washington. I was released a couple of days ago.”

  “How are you feeling? Does the wound still give you much trouble?”

  “Oh no, it’s not painful. It has weakened my leg enough so that I’ll probably always have to use a cane. But other than that I’m fine now.”

  “I’m so glad you came to pay us a visit,” Aaron said. “Have you been back to your own home yet?”

  Parker hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “Well, actually, I don’t have any family. I’ve been wondering just what I’d do when I got out of the hospital, and my first thoughts were to come see you right away.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did,” Aaron said. “Where was your home originally?”

  “I grew up mostly in upstate New York, but I moved around a lot.”

 
When James didn’t offer any more information, Aaron wasn’t sure how much else to ask about the young man’s family. Just then Gail came in from the kitchen and said, “Come along. Supper’s on the table.”

  Emily watched as Parker fumbled for his cane and stood to his feet. Her eyes met those of her father as he directed James to the dining room.

  Gail pulled out a chair and said, “Now you sit right here, Mr. Parker.”

  “Just James, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course. And you can call me Gail, and you can call my husband Aaron.”

  They had just sat down when hurried footsteps sounded on the stairway, and Wes popped into the room. He stopped dead still at the first sight of the soldier, and Emily said quickly, “This is Jared’s friend, James Parker. This is my brother Wes.”

  Wes went at once to the soldier and put out his hand. “I’m glad to see you, James.”

  “Are you still taking pictures, Wes? Your brother told me you were the best photographer in America.”

  Wes’s face flushed with pleasure. “Not that good, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, sit down, son,” Aaron said. “I’m starved to death.” He waited until Wes had seated himself and then bowed his head. “Our Father, we thank you for bringing this young man to our home. We thank you that his life has been spared. We give you thanks for this food and for every blessing. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Emily looked up quickly to see an odd expression on James’s face. He was staring at Aaron in a most peculiar way, and she could not imagine what was troubling him. Quickly she said, “Here, have some of this roast, James. My mother makes the best roast in the world.”

  “Jared told me she was a fine cook.” The soldier filled his plate with roast beef, mashed potatoes, and English peas as the dishes were passed around the table. The aroma of fresh bread filled the air in the dining room. “That smells so good,” Parker said suddenly. “I understand you bake your own bread.”