by Diane Moody
Danny’s roommate once again disappeared for weeks on end, only stopping by to pick up his mail, do some laundry, or search for a missing textbook.
“You know, people pay a lot of money to have a dorm room all to themselves,” Craig quipped one afternoon while digging in his closet. “You should thank me. Better yet, you should pay me for the privacy I’ve given you all these months. Ah, there it is,” he said, straightening as he placed a pipe between his teeth. “I don’t suppose you have any fresh tobacco on you?”
Danny leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “No, my elusive roommate, I don’t. Haven’t taken up the habit.”
“Oh, but you should! It makes you look dashing and debonair. Drives the ladies mad with passion.”
“Does it, now. Well, I’m happy to report the only lady I’m interested in doesn’t care a thing about tobacco.”
“Ah! And how is Lady Grayson? Still just holding hands, are we?”
Danny threw a tennis ball at Gilmore, smacking him in the back.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Well then, I’m off again,” he said, opening the door with the unlit pipe still wedged between his teeth. “Mustn’t keep the ladies waiting.”
“Ladies? As in plural?”
“Yes, well. The current love of my life and her suite mates like to share and share alike, shall we say? What’s a casanova to do?”
“A casanova? Gilmore, you bring new meaning to the word.”
“Why, thank you. See you in a few weeks, McClain.”
It was actually a month before their paths crossed again. By then, Danny was well into finals, already dreading the upcoming summer. He’d planned to stay home for a couple weeks to help Joey get settled then return for summer classes. He’d tried to convince Beverly to take some classes so they wouldn’t have to be apart, but that wasn’t to be.
“Danny, I told you before. My family always spends summers together up at Squirrel Lake. We’ve been going to our cabin there since I was a little girl. I couldn’t bear to stay here and miss seeing all our friends and family!”
He’d taken her hand in his as he walked her back to her dorm one night late in April. “Not even to be with me?”
“Now, don’t put it that way. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you. I just need a break from school. That’s all. Besides, it’s so beautiful up there, and we water ski every day and soak up the sun and have cookouts and bonfires . . . promise me you’ll come up one weekend?”
“I’ll see if I can work it into my busy schedule.”
“Very funny.” She’d come to a stop, facing him. “Now close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Just do it! Close your eyes.”
“Fine. My eyes are closed.”
He heard her jostling her books then felt her lift his hand to place something soft but solid in it.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
He looked down, finding a thick, soft leather book resting in his hand. Embossed across the front was the word JOURNAL.
“Beverly, this is beautiful.”
“I hoped you’d like it. I thought you might like to write down your thoughts. You know, like a diary only more grown up.”
He ran his hand over the dark caramel-tinted leather. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, we both know that’s a lie. You always have something to say. And since I won’t be here, I thought this might be the next best thing.”
He looked up at her. “I love it. Thank you.” He leaned over to kiss her softly. She kissed him back and he wished all over again that she didn’t have to go.
When she finally pulled back, she leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Of course, I’ll expect you to fill it with all your passionate longings for me while I’m away.”
“Gee, I don’t know. I’ll be so busy here, what with staring at the walls of my dorm room and all. I don’t know how I’d find the time . . .”
“Very funny.” She pulled him along the walkway as a group of sailors passed them by. “Behave yourself or I might ask one of those guys to come up to the cabin instead of you.”
“Hey!” He yanked her playfully back toward him and pressed his forehead against hers. “Look at me. What do you see?”
Her brows drew together, her face suddenly serious in the moonlight. “Uh, well, I don’t—”
“See me all green with envy.” He smirked and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek.
“Danny, that’s not funny.” She huffed and took off up the steps of Willard Hall.
“Goodnight, Grayson.”
“Goodnight, McClain.”
He watched her walk toward the dormitory doors, knowing she’d turn and wave like she always did. Instead, she marched in and never looked back.
He tucked the journal under his arm and dug his hands deep in his pockets as he turned to go, wondering if he’d somehow crossed a line. But he couldn’t help it. It was the first time she’d ever teased about seeing someone else. Even if it was just a harmless joke, he didn’t like the way it made him feel. He didn’t like it at all.
“Hey McClain!”
He turned to find her poking her head out a second story window. She stuck her tongue out at him, wiggling her fingers with her thumbs stuck in her ears. Then she kissed her fingers and blew him a kiss. “I love you, Danny McClain!”
He shook his head, laughing. “I love you too, Beverly Grayson. Sweet dreams.”
June 1942
Joey arrived home with a hero’s welcome. Neighbors, classmates, teachers, and complete strangers turned out to show their gratitude and welcome him back home. Danny couldn’t have been prouder of his big brother—or the outpouring of kindnesses toward him. For days, a steady stream of well wishers stopped by to thank him and fill their home with baked goods, flowers, and all kinds of unusual gifts.
“Thank God for bringing you home to us,” Mrs. Zankowski said, arriving with a large tin of homemade chocolate chip cookies. “I prayed for you every day, Joey.”
“I appreciate that, Mrs. Z. Can’t tell you how many times I thought about all that history you taught us in school. Sure never thought I’d be smack dab in the middle of it like that.”
“But you’re home, and we’re all so thankful that you are.”
Mrs. Martello and her sister from across the street brought over a red, white, and blue afghan they’d made for Joey.
“We started it December the eighth,” Angelica said. “Went right out and bought the yarn as soon as we heard you were over there in Hawaii when the Japs attacked.”
Mrs. Martello dabbed at her eyes. “We didn’t even know if you were alive or not. We just figured as long as we worked on your afghan, you’d come home.”
“Crocheted just as fast as we could to have it ready for you.”
“That’s so nice!” Joey said as they covered his legs with the colorful afghan. “I’ll think of you every time I look at it.”
The two ladies fussed over him, promising to stop by regularly. They both choked up after planting ruby red kisses on his cheeks before saying goodbye.
Danny plopped down on the armchair beside Joey’s makeshift bed in the living room. “Seriously, Joey, you could charm the habit off a nun. I’m pretty sure both those widows have a serious crush on you.”
“Ah, they’re just being neighborly.”
“Maybe so, but you might want to wipe all that lipstick off your cheeks.”
The visits continued, day after day. Joey wore out easily, so Mom started posting a sign on the door whenever he needed a break. Folks respected her wishes, often leaving a vase of flowers or a loaf of blueberry bread—his favorite—wrapped in aluminum foil inside a paper bag.
Danny loved having some time home with his brother. It gave him a chance to help his folks get Joey settled into a routine. The hospital sent him home with lots of instructions on caring for the wounds that hadn’t yet healed, as well as a calendar of weekly appointments they’d set up at the VA Hospital in Chicago.
&n
bsp; But those two weeks also gave the brothers a chance to talk, often long into the night after their parents went to bed. At first Joey didn’t say much about Pearl Harbor, then gradually he began to open up. He’d get emotional, sharing snippets of memories from that fateful day in December. The clear blue sky filled with Japanese zeros as far as they could see. The panic that set in as the call went out . . . Battle stations! Battle stations! This is not a drill! The deafening explosions that ripped apart the mighty battleships, one after another. The oil-soaked bodies of his shipmates floating in the water.
Joey squeezed his eyes, wiping away tears. “I just thank God I don’t remember the worst of it. The navy chaplain told me that was a real blessing, and I know he’s right. But every once in a while, I ask God why me? Why didn’t I die with the rest of my buddies? Why’d He let me live when every single one of my friends on board died?
“Then one day, when I was lying in that bed at Bethesda, I felt as if God told me not to ask Him that any more.” He looked over at Danny. “I mean, it wasn’t like I heard Him say it out loud or anything. But I knew I’d heard it all the same. And that’s what I did. I stopped asking why and started asking what He wanted me to do with the rest of my life. For the longest time, I couldn’t figure it out. But I knew in my heart God saved me that day for a reason, and I told Him I’d try to figure that out if it took me the rest of my life.” Joey leaned his head back on the pillow. “And that’s what I’m going to do.”
“And somehow you think working for Dad at the theater is why God saved you?”
Joey snickered at first. Then his snicker rolled into unrestrained, guffawing laughter which made Danny laugh just as hard. Sophie jumped up on Joey’s bed, wagging her tail as if wanting in on the joke.
Joey rubbed behind her ears, sending her into canine bliss. “Oh girl, you are the best medicine.” He looked at his brother. “Although I still don’t get how you convinced Dad to let you keep her.”
Danny wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Well, I guess it’s time I told you.”
Joey looked back at his brother. “Told me what?”
“It’s time you knew. Dad’s always loved me more than you.” He couldn’t stop the wheezing laughter that crept out.
“Yeah, that’s it. Have your fun. Kick a sailor when he’s down,” Joey teased. “Sophie, should we tell him? Or do you think he already knows you love me more than him?”
Danny dreaded the thought of returning to school after his two weeks home. He’d loved every minute he spent with Joey. It was like they’d become more than just brothers. They were friends. But Danny had already enrolled for summer classes, already paid his deposits, and he was already scheduled to work at The Grill. He said his goodbyes, promising to get home as often as he could. On the train ride back to Evanston, he broke in the journal Beverly had given him, writing of the special times he’d shared with his brother . . . and how much he missed his girl.
As he wrote down his thoughts and feelings, he remembered the letters he used to write to his pen pal Hans and then to Anya, sharing similar thoughts. He’d often thought of Anya whenever newsreels mentioned Occupied Holland, often showing grainy images of blown up bridges or long food lines. It all seemed so strange. One minute they’d been friends, sharing thoughts and musings in weekly letters. Then The Netherlands fell and Germany cut all avenues of communication from that little country. He’d never heard from her again. He wondered where she was and how she was doing. He knew it was altogether possible she hadn’t survived the war. The thought unsettled him. He wondered how her parents were handling the war, if they’d survived. Was her mother still bedridden? Her father still pastoring? What was it like to live under the jackboot of the hated Nazis? Danny shook his head, scattering the troubling thoughts from his mind.
The campus in Evanston seemed strangely deserted compared to the fall and spring semesters, but Danny didn’t mind the more relaxed pace. Craig showed up now and then, still paying his half of the dorm room cost. He’d once talked about Reginald Craig Gilmore Senior, his millionaire father who traveled the world with the fourth Mrs. Gilmore. Like father, like son.
Twice over the summer, he’d made plans to visit Beverly up at the family cabin on Squirrel Lake. The first time she’d called just before he left for the train station, telling him of some kind of family emergency that had come up and asking if he’d mind postponing til later in the summer. The second time, Mrs. Grayson had called to tell him her daughter had come down with a nasty summer cold and was too contagious to risk a visit. He wondered why Beverly couldn’t have just called herself, but didn’t give it another thought, heading home for the weekend instead.
Every time he went home, he found his brother growing stronger. Joey was finally walking again, though he required a cane. His father clearly enjoyed buying him a hand-carved cane much like his own. Danny couldn’t believe the difference in the atmosphere at home. He almost didn’t know the Frank McClain who could be heard whistling down in his workshop, helping Mother with the dishes, or playing chess with his oldest son. He didn’t recognize this man, but he sure liked him better.
How ironic. The world was at war, but for the first time, theirs was a home filled with peace.
31
September 1942
Danny checked his watch again. Ten after nine. Beverly, who’d just returned to campus earlier that day, had said she’d meet him at The Grill after his shift ended that evening. Classes hadn’t yet started, but the endless lines of fall registration had sent droves of excited students downstairs to The Grill. He’d never seen the hangout so busy, the booths and counter seats all crammed with both wide-eyed freshmen and seasoned upper classmen. When they’d finally closed down for the night, Danny was exhausted but anxious to finally see his girlfriend again after the long summer.
He was surprised she hadn’t come back to Evanston sooner. He’d missed her terribly and couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her. All summer he’d dreamed about the possibility of marrying Beverly Grayson. He knew they were still fairly young to get engaged, but he couldn’t help imagining how he might propose to her, when they might get married, and where they might honeymoon. Even now the thought brought a smile to his face.
But all those thoughts quickly disappeared once he saw her. She approached him in the now-quiet hall outside The Grill, never once making eye contact.
“Beverly! I thought you’d never get—”
“Hi, Danny.”
Her monotone greeting stabbed something deep in the vicinity of his heart. When he tried to hug her, she was stiff as a board. She kept her head down, only briefly glimpsing up at him.
“What—Bev, what’s wrong?”
He watched her swallow then press her lips together.
“Danny, we have to talk.”
He stepped back. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
She took a seat on the second step of the staircase and folded her arms across her chest. He slowly took a seat beside her wondering what could be so wrong.
He reached for her hand. “I really missed you this summer,” he said, hoping to keep the conversation light. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for us to—”
“Danny, I’m engaged.”
His mind went completely blank. He stared at her, certain he’d misunderstood. She looked down, smoothing and re-smoothing the pleats in her skirt. He couldn’t begin to think, much less respond.
“I’m sorry. I really am. Last year was . . . we had a lot of fun. We did. And I really like you. From the very beginning, I liked you.”
“You liked me?” he heard himself croak.
“Well, sure,” she answered, still not looking at him. “What we had was really nice and all. But, well, over the summer I . . . I met someone.”
He stared down at his shoes noticing how scuffed up they were. He’d need to get some new ones before classes started. These would have to be his work shoes. Work shoes? Why am I focusing on my sh
oes at a time like this? Wait. What did she just say?
“—and, well, I never meant to fall in love with Ronnie, but—”
He looked over at her brown and white saddle oxfords. Not a smudge on them. Her rolled-down socks, perfectly white.
Ronnie. Did she say Ronnie? “Ronnie?”
“Ronnie Wentworth. I don’t think you know him.”
“Ronnie Wentworth, the halfback?”
“Yes. See, my brother invited him up to the cabin that first weekend and—”
“That first weekend?”
“Yes. And, I don’t know, we just started having a lot of fun together and—”
“That first weekend.”
A film reel of the summer started flashing through his mind. The phone calls she didn’t return. The visits he’d planned that never worked out. That disinterested tone in her call the day before yesterday. He’d convinced himself she was just busy, trying to pack up for school.
“Yes, that first weekend.” She paused and finally looked up at him. “Danny, there’s no easy way to say it. Ronnie and I just fell in love. And last Sunday he asked me to marry him.”
He stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets, and slowly began walking up the stairs.
“Danny, I’m so sorry.”
I bet.
He picked up his pace until he reached the first floor and headed for the doors. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as he shoved the doors open and stepped out of Scott Hall. He started walking with no destination in mind. Even at 9:30, the campus still bustled with activity. He ignored the happy chatter of giggling coeds catching up on each other’s summers. He ignored the dance tunes and raucous laughter drifting out of the Sigma Nu house. And he especially ignored the young couples strolling arm in arm.
He didn’t stop walking for several hours. But not once in all that time—not once—did what just happened make any sense at all to him.
