Beyond the Shadow of War (31 page)

“Where are you off to?” Kate asked.

“I have some errands to run, then I plan to go by the house and see if we can gather some of our things. They’ll reek of smoke, so we’ll have to have them washed, I suppose.” She pulled out a mirror and dashed her mouth with a fresh coat of lipstick, then dropped both back in her purse. “I assume they have a washing service here, don’t they?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Gigi, how are you‌—‌”

“See you later, girls.” Off she went.

Anya and Kate shared a glance.

“I don’t even want to know,” Kate murmured.

“Neither do I.”

“And I’m not even going to ask, so there we are,” Phillip added, getting to his feet. “Joss, how about you and I take a walk over to the front desk and see if we’ve had any calls.”

Half an hour later, they picked their way through the smoky remains of their flat. Mrs. Grafton insisted on keeping Jocelyn so Kate could do what she needed. Phillip helped, carting several armloads of clothes to his car.

Anya was relieved that her bedroom at the flat had been spared. She collected her treasures, thankful the American flag charm Danny had sent her had survived the damage. She gathered her clothes and a few other belongings and placed them in her suitcase. Phillip was right; the stench of smoke permeated everything.

Kate’s room had substantial water damage from the fire hoses that doused the drawing room right next to it. A large section of the wall had been hacked down by the firemen’s axes.

“What a mess,” Anya said as she helped Kate gather her clothes and some of Joss’s things.

“I refuse to look at this with negativity,” Kate said. “We’re all alive, and that’s all that matters, right?”

“Yes, all of us, except for Sybil’s baby.”

Kate straightened. “Yes. Except for Sybil’s baby. We’ll just have to pray for her. I doubt there’s anything any of us can do or say that will lessen her grief, but I believe God can.”

Anya busied herself with more of Joss’s clothes. “I didn’t know you prayed.”

“Well, of course I pray. Don’t you?”

She pulled a blanket from Joss’s crib and folded it. “No, not really.”

“Why, Anya? You do believe in God, don’t you?”

“Yes, I believe in God. I’m just not sure He has anything to do with our lives here on Earth. How else can you explain the war and everything we’ve all been through?”

“But that’s just it. We don’t
have
to explain the war, or anything else for that matter. We just have to trust Him to see us through all of it.”

“Is that what you’ll say to Sybil? Would you pat her on the arm and quote some scripture to her? ‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord’?”

Anya took a sudden breath. “I’m sorry, Kate. That was unkind. I’m not arguing with you, but try to see it from Sybil’s point of view. Or mine, for that matter. It’s much harder to trust God when you’ve lost everything and everyone you ever loved. Where was He when all that happened?”

Kate was quiet as she finished packing her clothes. “I can’t say, Anya. I didn’t lose those dearest to me. My family is safe and sound in Winchester. I haven’t walked in your shoes.” She reached for Anya’s hand. “I know I must sound like such a simpleton, spouting beliefs I was taught in church as a child. I can’t begin to imagine the grief and heartache both you and Sybil have endured. We live in a world saturated with sin and evil and horrible people like Hitler and his followers. But God allowed us to survive for some reason, and I still trust in Him, because the alternative is just too frightening.”

Anya didn’t say anything. The same battle trampled her heart and mind every single day, but it wasn’t something she liked to talk about.

“I don’t pretend to have the answers, but I know God does. So for now, I’ll pray for Sybil. And for you, too. I care so deeply about both of you.” She closed the suitcase. “But enough of all that. Let’s get out of here before our pores soak up this wretched stench of smoke.”

34

9 January 1946
 

Chicago, Illinois 

Danny had read Anya’s letter three times that day and couldn’t get her off his mind. Another glance at the large clock gave him a few more minutes to kill before the library closed. He reached for the envelope and unfolded it one more time. It was dated 29 December 1945.

Dear Danny,

I’ve so much to tell you, I don’t know where to begin. Before I forget, I want you to know how much I love the American flag charm you sent me for Christmas. It’s such a perfect reminder of you and the life we have before us. Thank you for such a thoughtful gift.

But our Christmas was one of sorrow, Danny. It’s a long story, which I’ll try to keep as brief as possible here. As we took turns opening our presents on Christmas evening, Sybil had saved her parcel from Jack for last. In it, she found the gifts she recently sent him for Christmas and a letter saying he’d fallen in love with his childhood sweetheart who was now expecting his child, so he wanted an annulment. Sybil went into shock, and when she tried to leave the room, she tripped over my feet and fell into our Christmas tree. A fire broke out from the lighted candles on the tree. Most of the house was salvaged, though the smoke and water damage was extensive.

But far worse, Sybil lost her baby. Even now I can’t believe it. All of us are still grieving, though we’ve tried to lift her spirits now that she’s out of hospital. We’re staying at the Savoy Hotel thanks to Lieutenant Powell, the man from the American Embassy. Phillip was the one I wrote to you about who drove us to hospital when Kate had her baby back in October. We had invited him over for Christmas, so thankfully, he was there when it happened. He’s been a tremendous help to us, especially to Sybil. I honestly don’t know what we would have done without him.

With all that’s happened, we haven’t properly celebrated the good news, which is our notification to register at a place called Camp Tidworth in Salisbury Plain by Monday, 14 January. I’m told it’s not far from Southampton, which is where we will board our ship for America. I’m sure you heard about the War Brides Act that was just passed by your Congress yesterday, giving us non-quota immigration status. We’ve been told we don’t even need visas to enter the U.S. Imagine that, after all these months of standing in queues for days on end to get all our papers in order.

By the time you get this letter, we may already be at Camp Tidworth. I have no idea when we might sail, but they’ve told us we’ll be able to telegram you once the date is set. I’m not sure what to expect. To be honest, I feel quite numb about it. I want desperately to be with you, Danny. For months, I’ve dreamed of the moment I’ll see you at the pier in New York. But I’m so heartbroken for Sybil, and feel so wretched that the three of us will be leaving her behind. My only consolation is that Phillip will still be here. He spends whatever time he can spare at her side, and for that we are all grateful.

Our landlord Mr. Grafton has been wonderful, making sure we all get our letters. I had a letter from Sophie, and I’m so pleased for her and Charlie as she told me they’re expecting a baby next July. I can’t believe all these babies being born or on the way. It seems the world is trying to forget the long years of war and start over. A fresh start, it would seem. I had hoped to take the train to Framlingham for a visit before I leave, but time won’t allow.

I can hardly wait to see you, Danny. It won’t be long now.

Love,

Anya

Danny tucked the letter back in the envelope. He still couldn’t believe he would be seeing her in just a few weeks. Finally! But the news concerning Sybil had diminished the joy. To lose a baby seemed unthinkable, especially on the heels of such awful news from her husband.

He’d heard similar stories, of course. Lots of them. With thousands of veterans returning to civilian life, the inevitable adjustments after so many years away at war created a built-in tension on the home front. Newspapers and magazines addressed a number of these problems. For some, the mere fact they’d come home when so many of their fellow soldiers or sailors hadn’t, evoked a peculiar and unexpected sorrow that loomed over them. Just as bad, the smoldering resentment many of the veterans felt toward those who hadn’t “done their part,” no matter the cause for their deferment, leaving them behind to advance their careers instead.

Other veterans experienced a tremendous “let down” as they tried to retrain themselves for a mundane existence after years of constant adrenaline flowing through their veins. The unexpected flare of temper when things don’t go their way. The frustrating search for jobs with precious few available. The lack of housing and clothing and other necessities resulting from years of industries transitioned to provide resources for the war.

And on the actual home front, an even tougher adjustment unfolded as veterans often came home … different. Changed. Their personalities radically altered, dusting up unbearable showdowns with family and friends alike. Millie had told him many of the popular ladies’ magazines were featuring articles for wives and children, cautioning them about sporadic outbursts, inexplicable anxiety, horrific nightmares, and severe depression. They stressed the importance of “keeping an orderly house and serving delicious meals” as they got reacquainted.

But only a few of these articles addressed the exploding divorce rate among those who had returned from the war. Danny wasn’t surprised. He’d known plenty of guys like Sybil’s husband Jack. It was a game to them, sweeping English girls off their feet and dazzling them with hopes and dreams of living in a country unscathed by war. What he didn’t understand was why guys like Jack even bothered marrying the English girls in the first place. What was the point when they had no intention of staying faithful to their brides? How could guys like Jack turn their backs on their wives so soon after they got home?

Danny shook his head as he glanced at the clock again. He didn’t have to close the library tonight, so he gathered his things and headed for the door. He pulled on his gloves then wrapped the wool scarf around his neck and descended the library steps. He lowered his head against the cold blast of air and dashed across campus.

“Danny!”

He turned to find Beverly waving at him from the parking lot across the snow-covered lawn, then realized she was waving him toward her.

“I can’t! I’ve got a train to catch!”

She started toward him, her face serious. “I can take you home. Danny, I need to talk to you.”

He held up his gloved hand. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run.”

“Please, Danny? It’s important …” She stopped in her tracks and dropped her head in her hands.

He paused, knowing he should wave again and keep going. She was crying, which meant a lengthy encounter. He weighed the pros and cons in his mind, wishing he could just walk away. But regardless of their history, he couldn’t just leave her like this. He started toward her with a stern reminder to keep his guard up.

He closed the gap between them, stopping a few feet from her. “What is it, Beverly? What’s wrong?”

She looked up, her eyes red and her face streaked with tears. “I just need to … I don’t have anyone to … I’m sorry but I …” She closed her eyes and sobbed.

He stepped closer. “Beverly, what is it? What’s wrong?”

She gave her head a toss as though trying to shake it off. “Danny, I’m sorry. I’m such a mess, and I know I shouldn’t bother you, but‌—‌”

“No, it’s okay.”

She pulled off her gloves and wiped beneath her eyes. “I just can’t seem to pull myself together, and then I saw you, and I know I shouldn’t bother you, but I felt like if I didn’t, I’d just …” She stopped blubbering and shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivered.

“Look, it’s freezing out here. How about we go get some coffee at the diner?”

What? Did I just say that out loud?
All he wanted to do was go home. He prayed she’d take a pass.

“No, I don’t think I should.”

Whew.
“That’s okay.” He looked at his wristwatch. “It’s pretty late. Maybe you should just go home and get some rest. Whatever’s upset you will probably be okay by tomorrow.”

“No, I just meant I shouldn’t go anywhere looking like this.”

“Oh … okay.”

She sighed. “Just let me take you home, Danny, and we can talk on the way. You need a ride home, and I need someone to talk to.” She turned halfway, her eyes pleading.

He swallowed hard. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust himself with her. He didn’t know if he could trust
her
. He saw her often on campus and usually just waved and kept walking. A few times they’d actually talked; all superficial, though she always asked about Anya and if she’d come yet.

He looked at her, his mind still in debate. Even with bloodshot eyes and a flushed face, she was still beautiful. He wasn’t blind, but neither was he attracted to her anymore. At all. With that settled in his mind, he agreed. He followed her to her Packard, the motor still running.

He opened the driver’s door for her, then made his way to the passenger side and climbed in. She pulled a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her eyes, turning the rearview mirror toward her. “You must think I’m such a wreck. I’m dreadfully sorry, Danny. I just can’t stop crying.”

A trace of alcohol wafted between them. He’d never known Beverly to drink, but wasn’t entirely surprised either. It also dawned on him it was long after her office closed. Had she waited and come looking for him?

This was a mistake.

“Danny?”

He startled. “No, it’s okay. I’m just sorry you’re upset.”

She turned toward him, leaning her back against the car door.

He looked around then back at her. “I thought you were going to drive me home.” He wondered if she should be driving. How much had she had to drink?

“I will, I just need a moment.” She touched the edge of both eyes with her handkerchief then folded it on her lap. When she finally looked up at him, she apologized again. “Really, Danny, I’m sorry about this.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“Do you remember that time we talked after we first ran into each other on campus here? When we met for coffee?”

“Sure. That’s when you told me Ronnie had been killed in action.”

“Yes, and do you remember what else I told you? About the girl who came to see me and said she was pregnant with Ronnie’s baby?”

“Uh, yes, now that you mention it.”

“Her name is Margaret, and I ran into her at the grocery store this afternoon. And there in her arms was a little boy who looked so much like Ronnie … and I couldn’t talk or do anything … I couldn’t even breathe. I just kept staring into his face and seeing Ronnie‌ …‌”

She broke down, sobbing so hard and trying to talk that he couldn’t understand half of what she said. She trembled and looked back up at him, her face flushed, her eyes wild and searching. Then suddenly, she slid across the seat and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her head against his shoulder and clinging as hard as she could.

“Oh Danny, just hold me. Please just hold me.”

He freed his arm and put it around her shoulders, understanding her grief but wishing again that he’d never climbed in her car, never responded when she’d called his name.

“That should have been
my
son. I should have had Ronnie’s baby, not her.”

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

“I wanted a baby so badly. I begged Ronnie before he left. Why wouldn’t he want me to have his child? Why?”

“Shhh. I don’t know. Don’t think about that right now.”

She sat up and looked at him with such pain in her eyes, it actually alarmed him. “No, I’m asking. I need to know! Why didn’t he want me? Why wouldn’t he let me have his baby? Why did
she
get to have the child who should have been mine?”

He tried to untangle himself from her. “Beverly, look. I’m really sorry. I know it must have been awful to see her kid, but‌—‌”

She kissed him. Without warning, she kissed him hard as she wept, her hands locking around the back of his head. She groaned with such hunger, it made him dizzy. The wine on her lips tasted sweet, the warmth of her breath sending uninvited shivers down his spine‌—‌

“NO!” He pushed her away. “Stop. Just stop.”

“No, Danny, please. I need‌—‌”

He pushed the door handle and propelled himself out of the car, grabbing his satchel from the floorboard on the way out.

She lunged for him, still clinging to his arm. “Danny, PLEASE. Don’t leave me! I’m afraid! I’m so afraid I might do something desperate. You can’t leave me like this!”

He stood straight and shook off a quaking shiver.

“Go HOME, Beverly.”

He slammed the door and never looked back.