Soldier's Homecoming (9781460341308)

by Glaz, Linda S.

  “Of course I’ll take the letter. Can you get it ready right away? I’ll be leaving in a couple hours.”

  “Thanks, Art.” Joe was taking his leave to fetch the letters he’d been writing when he saw Mrs. Banks from the corner of his eye. “Watch out!”

  Her mind no doubt on Victoria, Mrs. Banks tripped over the small ottoman in front of her, and Joe’s warning came too late.

  *

  Lying in the hospital bed for hours, Victoria had more than enough time to worry. She had begun to tally in her head all the costs her father was incurring. With his company on less than solid ground of late, she worried her illness would put him completely out of business. Her thoughts swirling, the palpitations increased to the point it was difficult for her to breathe again. The nurse would rush in if she wasn’t careful. Stop, slow down. Take it easy or the only costs her parents would have would be a coffin and burial. She bit the edge of her lip. No. Not this young. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop her heart from doing whatever it wanted. Pounding in her chest, fluttering against her ribs, sending pessimistic messages to her brain that this was more serious than it was. Then again, how did she know one way or the other? Not even Dr. Weatherford was sure.

  More important, all she could think of was how unfair this all was to her folks. As an only child, she was aware of the heartbreak she’d cause them if anything happened to her. Think about other things, Victoria. Pleasant, happy things. Get your mind off yourself.

  She closed her eyes to rest, to clear her brain, but in no time at all, a face appeared. That face. Dark hair, cocoa-brown eyes and a smile that would melt even a starlet’s heart. Grinning at her in a manner that made her question not seeing him before she left. He hadn’t had those deep dimples when they were in high school, had he? Or had she forever thought of him as little Joey Huntington, even in high school, her head blocking him out when her heart found him so attractive? The flutterbudget her aunt accused her of being.

  This way of thinking wasn’t healthy.

  She shook her head. Didn’t work. His smile crept up on her, dimples and all, surprising her, and brought her joy in spite of herself. This was crazy. He was an incredible man and didn’t need half a woman, a used-up female with nothing to offer. A has-been. A worthless girl with only medical bills to bring to a marriage. Who knew what this would end up costing? When she’d asked Dr. Weatherford, he’d simply smiled and patted her hand, told her not to worry about such things. But his words had been as empty as his smile, which told her worry was all she should be doing.

  What would she be leaving behind? She hadn’t made her mark yet. Or had she? In all honesty, she’d like to think she had made a great deal of her life even if it hadn’t been pitching for the Peaches or Belles. Her little dancers were proof of all the time she poured into her work.

  Her head hit the pillow, and tears burned her eyes and then found their way to her cheeks. She wiped them away, but they returned again and again, soaking her hands and the pillow. She wasn’t done yet. Not yet. She wanted a family, her own little ballerinas and ballplayers. A husband who loved her. But that couldn’t happen, not with a weak heart, and wasn’t that what the doctors had implied?

  How she longed to have Joe with her, but that wasn’t going to happen. Even on the baseball diamond she’d been emphatic about fairness. Always fairness. She giggled momentarily through the tears. Okay, she might have waived that the one time she pitched the shiner.

  Still, in the end, fairness was what mattered.

  No matter how she wished things could be different, it wasn’t fair to Joe to be tied to a dying horse. And she was dying. The expressions on her father’s and the doctors’ faces told her as much. Why did she even need to go to Boston? Surely no one could fix a bad artery, or whatever the thing was. A duct. An opening that hadn’t closed when she was born. Was Dr. Weatherford correct in his diagnosis? Only after seeing this man, Dr. Gross, would she know for sure. So she’d wait until she had the final verdict. Or was that already in and she was merely going to New England Medical Center for sentencing? Gross might slam the gavel, giving her a death sentence.

  “No! I’m not ready to go!” The fluttering in her chest again. Oh, why wouldn’t it stop?

  A nurse dashed into her room. “Are you all right? Can I get you anything?” Then a caring smile. “Would you just like to talk, Miss Banks?”

  “No, no and no. Of course I’m not all right. Some doctor in Boston is going to tell me that I don’t have long to live. Why would I be all right?”

  “Oh, now, we don’t know any such thing. Let me call Dr. Weatherford. Maybe he can answer more of your questions. Keep calm and I’ll be right back.” She dashed from the room a little too quickly.

  Shortly, a visit from the doctor earned her more medication to relax. He didn’t seem to understand, no matter what they gave her or told her, she didn’t have the faith that they would be able to fix Humpty Dumpty. She was broken beyond repair. No way could some doctor in Boston fix this. They were talking about her heart, for crying out loud. Doctors couldn’t fix hearts. Could they?

  In no time at all, grogginess set in. Victoria fought to stay awake but finally succumbed to the medication. Was she dreaming or only groggy as she thought about the life she’d never have? A life with Joe. Babies, a home, a future. How could she think of a future with him when she didn’t even know if she’d have a future…of any kind?

  *

  With Mrs. Banks stretched out on the sofa, Joe helped Art ease an ice bag onto her leg, which was already swollen and purple. They had called Dr. Cleewell, but he hadn’t arrived yet.

  Art fluffed a pillow and wedged it under her head. Her skin, pasty white as a turnip, blended into the pale pillow, but her spunk stayed true to form. “I’m…hurt, dear. Not dead. Please don’t fuss.”

  “But you’re in pain. I can see that.”

  She tried for a smile, but the edges tipped slightly, nothing else. Even Joe could tell the pain overwhelmed her. He went to the window, pulled back the heavy floral drapes and kept an eye out for the doc. He looked at Art. “Should I try and call again?”

  “No, son. He’ll be along. That old wreck of his doesn’t go so fast anymore.” Like Mrs. Banks, all Art could do was attempt a smile, but his attention was wholly on his wife.

  An engine coughed out front and Joe sprinted for the door to let Cleewell in.

  Black bag and all, Dr. Cleewell entered and soon had everything under control. “I’d like a closer look with a fluoroscope. We’ll need to get her a bit more comfortable before we move her.” He pulled a small vial and syringe from his bag.

  “What’s that you have?” Mrs. Banks pushed up on an elbow and winced, and Cleewell gently nudged her back onto the pillow.

  “No arguments. Moving you is going to be quite uncomfortable, madam. I don’t want you feeling every bump in the road.”

  “But I must help…Arthur. His trip.”

  “What trip?” Cleewell’s hand dove immediately for his hips, his gaze leveled at poor Art, who hadn’t said a thing.

  “Victoria.” Art’s eyes took on the worry Joe had seen in them earlier. “She leaves for Boston tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Banks added, “She can’t go alone.” Her words were strained and tight. She needed the pain medication badly. “I won’t have my daughter going through this alone. Let’s be straight on that.”

  Dr. Cleewell’s attitude gentled. “I understand, but, Arthur, you can’t leave your wife alone right now. Perhaps that flibbertigibbet friend of Victoria’s. Florence?”

  Her face a mask of pain, still Mrs. Banks said, “She works at the five-and-dime. She’d have to give…them notice. Ooh, this really hurts. Sorry to be such…a baby.”

  With a quick fill of the syringe, Dr. Cleewell redirected his attention to this patient. “Joseph, if you could step out a moment.” Art appeared ready to pass out himself as the doctor made ready to inject his wife.

  When Joe entered later with coffee for both of the men, Mrs
. Banks’s eyes whirled a second, her lids fluttered and she sank into peace. At least, Joe hoped it was peaceful. He hadn’t ever taken more than an aspirin, but he’d seen drugs come in very handy in the war zone.

  “There, now. She’ll be much better.” Dr. Cleewell asked to use the phone in the kitchen. “I have Mrs. Brady in labor and don’t want to leave her in Jacob’s hands for long. I’ll let them know I’m on my way. Then, once Mrs. Banks is comfortable, I’ll be back and we can move her to the clinic.”

  Art plopped into the heavy wing-back chair, his gaze never leaving his wife. “Joseph, I guess we’ll have to take you up on your offer.”

  “Sir?”

  “To accompany Victoria to Boston. Florence would no doubt take the time even if it meant being fired from her job, but I can’t imagine a young woman could be ready as quickly as you could.”

  “A few seconds to throw a few clothes in a bag, and—”

  “That’s about all you’ll have, son. The train leaves in a little over an hour now. Are you sure?”

  A soft snorelike groan emanated from Mrs. Banks, and Joe smiled. “You have your hands full here, sir. I don’t see how you could go even if you wanted to.”

  “Make no mistake, I want to. Very much. But I can’t leave Mother like this. Folks might not talk, but I wouldn’t forgive myself. Once I know she’s all right, I’ll have Mrs. Evans from church in to take care of her. Then I’ll head for Boston.”

  Joe’s mind swirled. He’d have to get a ticket and make arrangements for a hotel for tonight in Lansing and then in Boston. If the bank was still open, he’d need some cash for the trip. A million things to do. “Then, I suppose I’d better get a move on.”

  “Where’s my head?” Art reached into his coat pocket. “Here you go. The ticket to Lansing and the tickets to Boston.” He shoved an envelope toward Joe.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “No thanks about it. You’re doing us a favor, son.”

  “I just wanted to help you and the missus out.”

  “You are helping us.” He snapped his fingers and withdrew another envelope, a fatter one this time. “Also, I have a hotel booked for one night in Lansing. In Boston, your stay is for as long as you need. It will be at the Family Shamrock, an older hotel on Albany right near the medical center. A friend owns it, so you just have to put everything on a tab there. A couple of days later when I arrive, I’ll take care of it all.” He pushed the envelope into Joe’s hand.

  “Then I suppose I should get crackin’.”

  Art pumped his arm like an old water pump. Leaning on others didn’t come easy for Mr. Banks, Joe could tell. So he left well enough alone.

  Dr. Cleewell returned. “Now that she’s out, let me explain a few things. If this is a clean break, I might be able to set it in the clinic once I have a look. If not, she might be sharing a room with Victoria in Lansing.” He smacked Art in the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I didn’t see anything that made me think I can’t do it here. But she’s going to need help for quite a while.”

  Joe and Art exchanged glances. Joe said, “As long as you need, sir.”

  “Joseph, you’re a lifesaver.”

  Under his breath, Joe mumbled, “I only hope Victoria feels the same when she sees me instead of you, sir.”

  *

  Sitting at the nurses’ station, phone in hand, Nurse Lewis eyeing her every move as if she were a porcelain doll about to break, Victoria spoke as quietly as she could. “Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry. Poor Mom. Is she in much pain?” She pictured her mother pale and hurting, but not complaining one smidge. That was her way. Was that who Victoria had gotten her “spunk” from, as Daddy called it? Well, she’d show spunk now, as well. Didn’t want either of them worrying she couldn’t take care of herself. Dad should concentrate on no one but her mother.

  “None to speak of at the moment, but the doc says when she comes around and that cast starts to squeeze her leg, she isn’t going to be any too happy. I guess he’ll be filling her with pain medication for the first few days. Tonight, for sure. He’s keeping her at the clinic where he and Nancy Collins can keep an eye on her. Not that I plan on going home without her.”

  That was her father. He’d be right by Mom’s side all night, holding her hand, patting her head, telling her how important she was and to get better fast. He was such a great husband. Always there to protect his beautiful wife. “Well, I understand. And I don’t want you worrying. I’ll be fine. I can certainly travel alone on a train.” One way or the other she had to go to Boston and take whatever they handed out with good grace…alone.

  “But you don’t have—”

  “I’m sure women have traveled to hospitals before without an escort. I won’t be the first. And I have no doubt I won’t be the last. You’re such a silly. Don’t concern yourself with me right now.” But she’d be nervous, all right. What if something should go wrong? What if the news… No, she wouldn’t think about that right now. Her parents needed for her to deal with this on her own. And she would.

  “Victoria, I’ve made arrangements.”

  “You needn’t worry, Dad. I’ll be all right. Really.” Nurse Lewis gazed over her shoulder, and the narrow squint changed almost immediately to a smile.

  A throat cleared behind her. “Of course you will.”

  Chapter 9

  “This is foolishness. I can’t believe my father sent you, of all people, to chaperone his twenty-three-year-old daughter as if she were a child. And I was very clear, Joseph. I did not want to see you right now.”

  He wanted to laugh. Both of the Banks women were feisty. Both wanted to take care of matters on their own. Yet, when he looked at the pallor in a face that should have been rosy, he realized how ill Victoria was. So laughter wasn’t a consideration.

  “Listen, your father talked to them at the hospital and they insisted you travel with someone. They might have said you could only go with a medical escort or by ambulance, but I believe Dr. Weatherford agreed for you to go with family. To help with expenses.”

  “Foolishness and nonsense. You aren’t family!”

  “You’ve got me there.” He’d like to be. Without much consideration to the contrary, he’d come to the realization that he would really like to be. Hang the idea of his own business. Whether or not he had to go crawling back to Wysse and Sons, if it helped Victoria, so be it. After all, Art’s small company could go under. It was struggling even now. That was one of the reasons they’d thought working together might be good for both of them. This was an expensive trip and Joe had heard that the surgery could be over a thousand dollars. More, maybe, depending on all they had to do. And if that meant Joe would have to kowtow to Wallace to get back his job, he’d do it.

  He wouldn’t like it, but he’d do it. For her.

  As she sat there looking like the child she denied being, he offered his hand. “I’m a fill-in. Victoria, I want to help you. Please let me.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears and she gritted her teeth, brushed them away and glared at him. He’d had the enemy do it with less gusto.

  Nurse Lewis made a rumbling in her throat and Victoria rose from the chair. “I’m sorry. You want your seat back. And the phone.” She still clutched it, like a weapon if Joe guessed correctly. And he’d already been on the receiving end of her anger a few too many times. Of course, he was in the right place to be treated if he ended up with another black eye.

  Joe cupped her elbow and steadied her; he snatched his suitcase with the other hand. With a polite smile to the nurse, he walked with Victoria toward her room. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Oh, I’m not upset. I’m really angry.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond. “I didn’t mean to make you really angry.” His lips tilted enough to hopefully coax a smile from her.

  She did smile. A sad one, but a smile nonetheless. “Oh, Joe. If truth be told, I’m not mad at you, at Mom and Dad or even at the doctors. I’m angry that this is happening. I’ve prayed about it, but I
feel like God’s not listening.”

  “You know better than that. He simply isn’t giving you the answer you want right now.”

  “Isn’t that the truth? I’d hoped I’d get here and Dr. Weatherford would tell me it’s all been a misunderstanding, but I can see that isn’t the case. And don’t worry. I’m not mad at God. I understand that things happen to folks. To all folks. I had just hoped I’d have better news.”

  Joe hurt so much right at the moment, he thought his heart had truly broken. He gazed into the beautiful blue eyes that had softened his heart years ago.

  Now that lively girl, that self-assured woman had grown pale and unsteady. And there wasn’t a thing he could do to help her get better. He was almost upset to see her give in so easily. That didn’t sit well. She never gave up, but here and now she was turning herself over to the situation far too effortlessly as if she had no fight left.

  What could he do to change all this? He could pray, harder than he’d ever prayed before, hoping for a different answer this time just as she hoped.

  “We’ll take everything one day at a time. Let’s pray for this Dr. Gross to really be the miracle man everyone says he is.”

  “There’s only one real miracle man, Joe.”

  He smiled again. “You’re right. And that’s who we’ll put our trust in. Okay?”

  As he settled her into the chair next to the bed, she glanced at the bag in his hand. “You haven’t checked into your room yet? It’s getting late. You won’t even be able to find a place to eat if you wait much longer.”

  Food didn’t matter. The only thing that could nourish him now would be for her to get better. If only he dared hold her in his arms, let her feel his concern and protection. Well, at least she was talking to him, not angry anymore. For that, he was grateful.

  Then, as if she could read his mind and didn’t want him getting the wrong impression, she said, “I’m really tired. You’d better go. I’ll be ready by eight.” This time, there wasn’t even a hint of a smile. She rose and sat on the edge of the bed, her flannel robe barely reaching her toes.