Dorothy Garlock (19 page)

For the first time since he had opened the door, Cole noticed that his brother was holding something in his hand; a long,
ornate walnut box that teased at his memories. “What is it?” he asked.

Opening it with a soft cry of its hinges, Jason held the box out so that Cole could see its contents; there, nestled elegantly
among several sheets of thin crepe paper, was a pearl necklace. Clasped to the necklace was an elaborate brooch; delicate
golden tendrils spread out from a sapphire center as if they were rays of light being shed from the sun.

“It belonged to our mother,” Jason said, and in that very moment, the spark of recognition spread across Cole’s memory; he
saw her elegantly standing before the window as she wore it, just as plain as the day, and he couldn’t help but feel a touch
of shame at ever having forgotten such a sight.

“Where did you get it?”

“I suppose you could say that I stole it,” Jason shrugged.

“
Stole it
?!”

“I took it out of a box that Dad had put in the attic right after she died,” he explained. “I’m sure that the old man would
be more than a bit furious to know that it was no longer there, but I figure that what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I just
couldn’t bear the thought of it being locked away.”

“I remember her wearing it,” Cole said, and his brother smiled.

“I want you to have it while I’m gone.”

“Why me? Why not Mary Ellen?”

“Someday I do want her to have it,” Jason said, and as he spoke, Cole could see just how much he truly loved the girl he used
to pelt with mud. “When I’m finally back home and all the fighting is over, I’ll work up enough nerve to ask her to be my
bride. On our wedding day, she’ll wear our mother’s necklace. But until that time, I want to know that it’s in your hands.
If I know you have it, that it’s being looked after, then I’ll have something else to come home for.”

Jason handed Cole the jewelry box. Gently, Cole pulled the necklace free and draped it loosely across his fingers. Turning
it first this way and then that, he stared at the brooch, certain that if he looked at it hard enough, his mother might somehow
look back.

“I’ll take good care of it,” Cole promised.

“I know you will,” Jason said. “Just like you’ll look out for Mary Ellen.”

“I still miss Mom, you know,” Cole murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

“We all do.”

“It’s just that I…” he began, but trailed off, his memories of that fateful day getting the best of him. He had been standing
in this very room when he’d heard the crash, so startled by the noise that he had been unable to move, listening for some
further sound. Tentatively, he’d gone out onto the landing, tears welling in his eyes when he’d seen her. He’d tried to move
quickly, to make his bad leg act as it never had before, but… “It’s just that I still can’t help feeling that it’s my fault
she’s gone.”

“You can’t torture yourself over this for the rest of your life,” Jason said as he rose to his feet and placed a consoling
hand upon his brother’s shoulder. “No one blames you.”

“Dad does.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jason disagreed. “He blames himself.”

“What are you talking about?” Cole asked incredulously. “I’m the one…”

“Who was here when she fell,” Jason finished, cutting him off while finishing his thought. “That’s true, but one of the reasons
she was alone in this house with you was because he was always at the hardware store. Maybe if he hadn’t been so focused on
the business, he might have been home at that moment. When he looks at you, he doesn’t just see your failure to go and get
help, he sees his own.”

“But he couldn’t have known—”

“It doesn’t make any difference,” Jason said. “He feels it all the same.”

“But I didn’t go for help! I didn’t—”

“You were a child, Cole,” his brother explained. “No one could have expected you to do more than you did. Dad knows that you
should never have been in that position.”

Cole found himself momentarily speechless. In all of the years he had played the events of that tragic day over and over again
in his mind, he had always interpreted his father’s reaction to his mother’s death as
his
fault. But what Jason said shook him. If it was true, that meant that every time Robert Ambrose looked upon his younger son,
he was reminded of his own guilt as well as his loss.

“Maybe I should go, leave the house,” Cole said. “It would be easier if I wasn’t here.”

“No,” Jason argued with a shake of his head. “This is his problem, not yours. Eventually, he’s going to have to understand
that accidents happen and there’s simply nothing we can do to prevent them. No one wanted her to die, but she was taken from
us just the same. We have to accept that, as uncomfortable as such a thought is. Both of you need to realize that fact instead
of beating yourselves up over things you can’t fix.”

“I’ll try,” Cole offered.

“Give Dad some time,” Jason said. “He’ll eventually come around.”

Standing there in his room, Cole was once again struck by just how much he was going to miss his brother. His arms found Jason
and he hugged him tightly, wishing he could stay in that moment forever. Though he knew that Jason would be leaving for foreign
lands and unknown dangers on the morning train, he wanted to cling to this memory, to hold it in his chest where he could
treasure it every day that Jason was gone.

Finally, Jason let him go, tousled Cole’s blond hair, and stepped to the door. “Try to get some sleep,” he said with a wink.
“After all, tomorrow’s going to come soon enough.”

C
OLE STOOD NEXT
to his brother and father under the short awning of the train station and cursed the weather. Unlike every other day since
he had returned to Victory, the morning had dawned every bit as unpleasant as his mood; a light pitter-patter of raindrops
fell ceaselessly from the leaden sky, steadily drumming upon the earth. Peeking out from under the cover afforded to him,
Cole looked up into the solid mass of gray clouds that spread like a blanket from horizon to horizon as rain struck his hat
and wet his chin.

Jason shrugged. “It could be worse.”

“How do you figure?”

“I could have been sent off in a blizzard, I suppose.”

“At least there’s no thunder or lightning,” Robert added sullenly.

Cole was as startled by the sound of his father’s voice as he would’ve been by the very thunder the man spoke of. It was the
first time that day he had heard him speak. The ride to the train station had been spent in silence, save for the creaking
of the truck and the never-ending drumming of the rain upon the windshield. Cole hadn’t been able to find his tongue; it had
been as if he were in church, a place where even a cough seemed inappropriate, listening to the preacher lecture from his
pulpit about eternal salvation. They had sat in the cab of the pickup stiffly, the three of them packed as tightly together
as sardines.

Inside the depot, there was a similar quiet. Occasional sounds echoed off the brick walls or concrete floors grown slick with
rainwater. Most of the wooden benches that lined one wall of the depot were empty, their middles permanently sagging from
weight that had been visited on them long ago. A cracked clock dutifully marked the passage of time. Across the glistening
tracks, a dirt road ran along the rails and beyond that an open cornfield, now covered in a veil of rain and a haze of fog
as thick as a curtain. A fitful breeze rose and then fell, swaying the heavily laden branches of maples and oaks. Above them,
a pair of bare light bulbs momentarily sputtered to life but just as quickly extinguished, keeping them in a gloomy dark.

Few people milled about inside the depot or stood out near the rails; a young couple cooing over a sleeping infant, a middle-aged
man methodically stuffing his pipe with tobacco, and an elderly woman profusely thanking one of the depot’s porters for helping
her with her luggage. Cole couldn’t help but think that Jason’s earlier premonition about the day seemed right: it had the
air of a funeral.

“What time do you have?” Jason asked.

“It must be getting close.”

“Give it a look.”

Cole checked his watch; still nearly ten minutes remained before the train was expected to arrive. Out of the corner of his
eye, he could see his father looking at his older son appreciatively. Cole wondered what his father was thinking at a time
like this; it saddened him that he had no idea if the man was filled with pride or racked by nerves.

For a moment, the two brothers stood silently, watching the rain endlessly fall.

“I’m sure as spitfire gonna miss baseball,” Jason said, breaking the quiet.

“They’ll keep you posted on who’s in the running for the pennant.”

“You reckon there’s even going to be a season next year, what with all of the players getting called up?” Jason asked, as
if he’d never before given the idea a moment’s thought.

“I can’t imagine a summer without baseball,” Cole answered.

“You suppose a guy like Ted Williams would have to go and fight?”

“I can’t imagine why not. If there’s someone more able-bodied than him, I’d be hard pressed to tell you who he is.”

“Wouldn’t it really be something if Teddy Ballgame became a flyboy just like me?” Jason exclaimed. “Heck, since I’m already
daydreaming, we could even end up in the same unit!”

“Maybe then he could finally teach you how to hit a curveball.”

“Still a wiseass, I see.”

“You’re only sore because it’s true.” Cole smiled.

“Who do you suppose would play left field for the Red Sox if it isn’t him?”

Cole shrugged; though he was still enjoying their talk, his heart felt as heavy as a boulder. While it was certainly true
that Jason was passionate about baseball, it was clear from the sound of his voice that he was nervous. For this, Cole certainly
couldn’t blame him; his own stomach was roiling, and he wasn’t the one about to board a train bound for war.

Suddenly, the piercing whistle of the approaching train sounded in the near distance. Every head in the depot braved the miserably
wet weather, necks craning to peer down the tracks for first sight of the locomotive. Cole was riddled with disappointment;
he realized that he had never wanted a train to be late as much in his entire life.

Still, as the train slowly began to make its way into the tiny station, Cole found the sight of the looming black locomotive
to be impressive: billowing clouds of thick black smoke pouring from the engine’s tall stack; the first glimpse of the conductor,
his white beard stained with soot; the hissing of rain as it steamed against the heat of the furnace; the shrill, sharp cry
of the brakes as they slowed the iron horse; and even the expectant thrill of the passengers, contemplating journeys that
were coming to an end and those that had yet to begin.

Cole’s eyes found those of a young soldier sitting alone in the first passenger car as it slowly drifted past. Their gazes
met for only a brief moment, but it was enough for him to remember his return to Victory. There had been soldiers on that
train as well; it was hard to believe that his brother was heading off to become one of them. He wished that there were more
people to see Jason off, a band or the mayor, perhaps, but this was the new reality of war; men would do their duty with little
or no fanfare.

The train finally came to a halt and a handful of people got off. Most of those who had been waiting in the depot happily
rushed to greet the new arrivals, curse the weather, and rush away. In a matter of moments, the depot emptied, the Ambrose
family the only ones left.

Cole felt a tightness grip his chest. It was all happening too fast! Turning to his brother, he expected to see the same anxiousness,
but Jason was silently regarding the train.

“I guess this is it,” Jason said.

“Don’t forget you promised to write.”

“Each and every time I come across paper and a pencil.”

“I’m sure they’ll have plenty of both at Camp Parks.”

Jason was scheduled to arrive at the United States Naval Training Yard at Camp Parks outside of Oakland, California, in three
days’ time to begin his boot camp.

“Just make sure you do it.”

“Yes, sir!” Jason barked, throwing Cole a salute for good measure.

“It’s not a joke!”

“Who thinks it’s funny?” his brother shot back with a chuckle. “I’m under the impression that if I don’t rush off a strong
and steady stream of letters telling you about every last detail of military life, there’s going to be a special kind of hell
to pay. Does that sound about right?”

“It does, at that.”

“That’s why I’ll keep my promise,” Jason said as he clasped Cole’s shoulder.

“You’d better.”

Cole pulled his brother close and they embraced tightly. Tears began to well in his eyes and he had to struggle to stifle
them; he’d sworn to himself that he would manage to be strong for Jason’s sake, no matter what. Memories of their lives together
raced through his head; they had always been close as children and their affection for each other had only become stronger
as they had grown older. Though he held his brother in his arms, Cole couldn’t help but feel that Jason had already gone,
and that sudden fear made him hold on all the tighter. In that moment, he was ashamed of how he had felt the last time he
had been at the train depot; the wish to go to war struck him as absurd.

Breaking their embrace, Cole was momentarily surprised to find his father standing beside them. He was even further startled
to see Robert Ambrose take his departing son close to him and hold him tightly. Cole couldn’t recall a moment where his father
had demonstrated great affection toward him or his brother; he was a man more likely to offer words of encouragement or an
occasional pat on the back. But now, as Jason was about to be whisked away to an unknown future, he was clearly struggling
to control his emotions. It may have been the rain, but Cole watched what looked like a lone tear slowly fall down the man’s
cheek.