Promise to Cherish (5 page)

“Surely a seated job for a war hero can be found.”

“Not when your only credentials are door-to-door sales before the war. Afterward he worked in a factory, but he had to stand for hours . . . besides, all sorts of younger soldiers returning are looking for work, too.” She winced at the edge in her voice. This topic made her uncomfortable—all of it leading to
how poor they had become. She didn’t know him well enough to know if he was judging her or not.

They danced in silence for a short time. It was an easy silence, but Christine was eager to get to know him better.

“What are your plans now that you’re home?”

“Well, Columbia next semester, and living with my grandfather in the city. I’ll have to take a few extra summer courses, but then I’ll graduate.” He looked so handsome when he smiled. “You know, Christine, I always wondered about Pete’s quiet little sister. Neither of your brothers were very quiet.”

He was right about that.

His head tilted as he looked at her and he smiled as he spoke. “I always knew you were smart, but now I can see you’re also pretty.”

Her face grew warm and her entire body matched the heat. Had he really just called her pretty? The words from “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” filled her ears and their bodies swayed until it was through. Jack Delano had just set a fire in her, like the song said. A new fire that she’d never experienced before.

The next day Christine went to church with her family. Though her family’s home was only a few bus stops away from the hospital, the transformation from the grim and prisonlike hospital to small, cottagelike homes and steeple churches always brought her a sense of peace.

Their church, Pine Hill Community Church, was just down the street, and they’d been going there for as long as she could remember. Nothing had changed much in all her years there. The church still had the bell that rang at sunrise and sunset on Sunday. They still had the annual Sunday School picnic where they’d bake pies and sweet breads to sell for the hungry kids in
Africa. Preacher Mabry still turned red about halfway through his sermon. And everyone still called Mrs. Nellis
Mrs. Cupcake
because the scent of cupcakes always wafted around her.

A few hours later, she sat at her family’s kitchen table, just as she had in her youth. Her father, Harold, had always been quiet, especially now that his two boys were gone. Doris, her sister, wasn’t much different—often being scolded for bringing novels to the table. An awkward yet smart girl, Doris didn’t care about popularity in school. She worked at the local bank as a secretary.

While Christine had also not been popular she was outgoing enough to make friends. She had been the captain of the Math Club, and when the science teacher had gotten ill in the middle of class, she’d taught the rest of the lesson. She tutored other students, which was how she and Jeanne had become friends.

Christine’s mother, Margie, was a busybody and pretended better than anyone that their family wasn’t in a near-poverty state and completely dependent on Christine’s and Doris’s incomes. Margie had only been speechless once in Christine’s memory. The haunting quiet had consumed the house in the weeks after the telegram came telling them that Peter had been killed in action. Only weeks later another telegram came saying that Nathaniel had died also. Margie was never really the same after that, though she hid it well, most of the time.

“Do you want my help?” Christine asked this every Sunday when she went home after attending church with her family. Her mother always said no, especially on days she’d prepared chicken.

No one would ever forget how Margie had gone into a near-catatonic state after the deaths of Peter and Nathaniel. She could do nothing, which left Christine to cook for the family for the first time in her life while balancing the added responsibility with nursing school. A full week into her new duty, she’d burned everything except the chicken. It was undercooked. This
forced her mother back into reality. Putting the chicken back into the oven was Margie’s first sign of life.

“It’s chicken, honey,” her mother said with a sigh hugging her words. She cleared her throat then put a smile on her lips that reminded Christine of a mannequin in the window from the dress shop downtown. Fake.

“Any job interviews this week, Dad?”

Sometimes asking poured salt in the wound of unemployment, but her concern was genuine. Her dad inhaled and the muscles in his neck grew tight.

“Doris got me an interview at the bank, but it didn’t work out.” His voice was devoid of emotion and his face remained placid. “They said there might be duties I cannot do because of this.” He gestured to his wheelchair. “When I asked them what those duties were, since the job was for a teller, they just said it required standing for long hours.”

He shrugged.

“I think I’ll join Doris in the living room and read the paper until dinner’s ready,” he said, without looking at either her or his wife.

Christine grimaced as he wheeled himself against the table leg, then the corner of the cabinet, before he was able to get out of the kitchen. After using his cane for church, his body was too exhausted to do anything but sit in his wheelchair.

“Maybe you should move the cabinet into another room, so dad could get in and out of the kitchen better.”

Her mother cleared her throat before she answered. “Your father won’t let me. He said I’ve already sacrificed enough.”

Christine didn’t respond but let her mother’s words rest between them for several moments.

“Didn’t Jack Delano look handsome at church today?” Her mother looked knowingly over her shoulder at Christine.

Christine nodded and silently prayed that her face wasn’t
turning red. It had only been the night before that they’d danced, not just one but three dances. But today at church when they locked eyes across the sanctuary, he nodded at her like he had at everyone else. She replayed the previous night in her head through the pastor’s sermon. Had she read too much into their time together? Maybe dancing for three songs in a row with the same girl was normal for him. Maybe it wasn’t as special as she thought.

“He looked so handsome sitting there next to his mother.” Margie blinked awkwardly and rapidly as she spoke. Then as she continued it was almost as if she spoke to no one but herself. “He’s a good boy and so much like Peter, except Jack has never been half the size of my Peter and Nathaniel. How can it be that a tall and narrow boy like Jack could’ve made it through a whole war when my big, strong boys . . .” her voice faded away and she shook her head and turned back around toward the sink.

There were several minutes of heavy silence in the kitchen and the mood remained low for the rest of lunch. Christine was heading out the door when her mother lingered there while saying good-bye.

“This is for you and Dad.” Christine waited until the last moment to hand an envelope of cash to her mother. Giving her family most of her paycheck had become a regular routine, but she still didn’t like to do it in front of her dad or Doris.

Her mother took it and tucked it into the pocket of her apron—the same one she’d had since Christine’s childhood. It was white with bright red and pink flowers and had wide straps over her shoulders that crisscrossed in the back. Margie took such good care; it didn’t look half its age.

“I’ll see you next Sunday,” Christine said and started turning away.

“Wait, honey.” Her mother bit her lower lip. What was she up to? “I know you keep telling me not to, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Mother, what did you do?” Christine squared her shoulders and imagined the worst. Surely this wasn’t about that greasy car salesman Roy Brown. Their mothers were on the Sunday School committee together and had been trying to pair them up for ages.

“Don’t worry, it’s not Roy. He has a steady girl now.” Margie waved a hand at her. “But, it is about another young man.”

“Mother.” She groaned. “Why don’t you work on Doris instead of me?”

“Oh, Christine, you know better than that. Doris doesn’t have your spirit. Besides, I just really want you to be happy.” She sighed. “You’ve done a lot for us—don’t think we don’t appreciate it. I know Hudson River isn’t the future you wanted for yourself. Every girl dreams about marriage and a family.”

She’d heard all of this before as her mom went on for another minute about her own dreams of getting married and becoming a mother since she was five. Christine dropped her gaze onto the wooden slats she stood on—she, too, had once dreamed of marriage and family. Behind her were the stairs that led up to the small platform in front of the door. How long would it be before her father could no longer take stairs at all? She pushed her glasses up.

“Christine? Are you listening?”

“What?”

“Don’t you want your own family someday?” Her mother untied her apron and roughly hung it over her shoulder. “You should be thankful that I have an eye out for you.”

“Mother, please. I’ve already told you
no blind dates
.”

“This wouldn’t exactly be a blind date. You already know Jack Delano.”

“Jack Delano?”

What was her mother talking about? Who told her about last night?

“Mother, did you say something to him?” Is that why Jack had danced with her the night before? Was it just an obligation? She hadn’t told her mother about going out dancing with her friends, had she? How could she have even known?

“Don’t worry, honey, I haven’t said anything to anyone.” Margie leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “Elsie Delano and I were both at the Missionary Brunch a few days ago and she and I sat at the same table. I overheard her telling Carol Strand that Jack is definitely ready to find a nice girl and settle down. He does have to finish college first, his grandfather’s orders, but I think you two could be a fine match.”

All the way to the bus stop and then during the drive out to the hospital, she thought about Jack and her mother’s comment. What if she was right?

CHAPTER 4

R
elief washed over Eli as he stepped into his private room on the hospital grounds. He had no idea before arriving that he would get his own room. At least that was one consolation after not having a choice whether or not to come. He knew how to build, dig, and pal around with other men. He did not know how to work with sick people. He wasn’t sure he could do this job.

The room was small, but it didn’t matter. The bed was just in front of him, and a small sink with a shaving mirror was on the wall behind the door. His mother had sent him a yarn knotted comforter, and before he unpacked anything he put it over the army blanket that was tucked around the small cot. He’d never thought that the look and feel of a brightly colored blanket would ever comfort him as much as it did in that moment.

There was a contentment that surrounded him as he stood in the middle of his new room. A sense of peace washed over him as he unpacked his few belongings and settled in. When he pulled out his Bible he paused. It was new to him, but it was used and worn around the edges. Some passages were underlined, and he’d written his name below the first owner of the sacred book.
Since his family only had one Bible, he was not able to bring one with him to the CPS. A visiting Mennonite preacher had given the donated Bible to Eli soon after he arrived in Hagerstown.

The man had preached a sermon on accepting God’s gifts of grace and forgiveness for past sins. The preacher spoke about Jesus with such familiarity that at the start made Eli uncomfortable. But week after week he wanted to learn more about living with such fervor that was alternative to the stoic nature he was accustomed to. Living that kind of life, however, made him nervous.

The next morning arrived early. Even though his first shift at the hospital wasn’t until eight, the C.O.’s had breakfast together, followed by prayer and a meeting where they learned their ward assignments. He was placed in the all-male Ward 71, along with three other C.O.’s he’d met the night before: DeWayne, James, and Freddy.

“Think we’ll be working with any lookers?” Freddy asked as they went up the stairwell steps.

“Freddy doesn’t think about too much other than playing cards and girls,” DeWayne told Eli.

“Don’t you get me in trouble, Freddy.” James pointed at him. “My girlfriend is volunteering here. She’ll whip me if she thinks I’m getting fresh with the nurses, or playing cards for that matter.”

“So, does your girl Lisa have any friends?” Freddy looked hopeful.

Freddy and James walked ahead, talking loudly about a few of the other girls who volunteered their time with the CPS unit.

“
Hosh en frau
?” DeWayne asked Eli if he had a wife.

“
Nay
.” He shook his head
no
but smiled at hearing his dialect. Most of the Mennonites he’d come in contact with either didn’t like to speak Pennsylvania Dutch or didn’t know it. It comforted him to hear his tongue.

“Girlfriend?” Freddy asked.

“No, not anymore.”

“Well, there go my chances,” Freddy yelled back at them, his shoulders slumped.

“What do you mean?” Eli asked as he pulled the collar of the white attendant shirt he’d been issued. He would have to get used to being so buttoned up.

“None of the nurses are going to be interested in scrawny me if you’re around. You’re four times my size.” Freddy was a mite puny.

Eli learned that everyone else in his new unit had experience in a mental hospital setting, including Freddy. He’d gained a reputation that despite his short stature he was still able to get the patients to do what he needed—as long as he wasn’t in an aggressive ward.

The four men laughed as they made their way through the door that led to their ward. The laughter died quickly when they saw the stern face of a man standing there waiting for them. This must be the attendant that would be training them. The four men stood in silence in front of him for several long moments before DeWayne broke the ice and introduced himself, leading the others to do the same.

“My name is Todd Adkins, and I’ll be showing you around the ward.” He had a full head of gray hair and Eli guessed he was nearly sixty. The attendant spoke with an accent Eli hadn’t heard before. He held a clipboard out in front of him and ticked a pen against the side of it. “Have any of you worked in a hospital before?”