Carly (18 page)

“Thanks,” Lorelle said. “We don’t want any trouble. We just want to shop, and then we’ll head back to our base at five today.”

The police asked the Saudi woman a few questions, which she answered. Then she turned to them. “The police say, ‘Don’t cause
trouble. Go on with your business.’”

“Well, duh,” Sam said. “That’s what we were doing.”

Bowie took Carly’s elbow.

“Don’t do that,” the Saudi woman said sharply, “people will get the wrong idea about her.”

Though he dropped his hand, Bowie looked as if he was about to say something rude.

“He’s just trying to protect me,” Carly said. She gave Bowie a pleading glance. He looked stubborn but nodded.

“Let’s get our packages from the shop and go find someplace to eat,” Sam suggested.

“There is a good café just around the corner,” the Saudi woman said. “I’ll take you there if you like. It’s on my way home.”

“Thanks,” Lorelle said. They all accepted their brown paper and twine packages from the bowing shop owner and then followed
the Saudi woman down the narrow lane. Other Saudi bystanders gawked as if the circus had come to town. Or that’s how it felt
to Carly.

“I know it’s hard to understand our ways,” the Saudi woman said as they followed her down the lane. “But I remember how exposed
I felt the first time when I was at school in London and I went out on the street without my
abayah
and veil.”

“Why would you come back here?” Carly couldn’t stop herself from asking.

The woman shrugged. “This is my home. This is where my family is. I liked London, but I didn’t like everything there either.
Here is the café. The men and women have separate entrances”—she pointed these out—“but after you go inside, the men can come
over to the family side and join you women there.”

“So we have to walk in separate doors but we can sit down together?” Joe asked, sounding as if he had plenty to say about
this.

“Thank you so much,” Carly said and offered her hand to the woman.

They shook hands and then with a quick farewell, the woman left them. “See you guys inside,” Carly said and walked into the
café. “Boy, do I need a cup of coffee.”

Lorelle chuckled as she trailed in after Carly. “Remember, they make their coffee strong and sweet here.”

“Fine.” Carly drew a deep breath and, at the motion of the waiter who met them inside, made her way toward a table.

Soon she saw Bowie’s blond head towering over everyone. Then he was beside her. “You okay?”

She grinned at him. “I’m fine,” she said with sincerity. As long as Bowie and Lorelle were with her, she was fine. “Let’s
order.”

Virginia, December 15, 1990

Feeling like a teenager again, Bette stood at the phone in her kitchen, speaking to Chloe. “Mother, I’m thinking of bringing
a friend for Christmas dinner.”

“Wonderful. There’s always room for more at my table.”

Bette smiled. Yes, there had always been room for more around the table at Ivy Manor. For a moment, she was transported back
to 1936, and Gretel and her great-uncle Ira were sitting around the dining table at Ivy Manor. Rory and Thompson were just
little boys again, champing at the bit to be excused to listen to
Jack Armstrong, All-American Boy
. Her stepfather was sitting at the head of the table, laughing. Telling herself not to be maudlin, Bette pulled herself back
to the present. “Do you think Leigh will mind? Will think it’s an intrusion on our family day?”

“Bette, I’m the hostess. Bring your friend. I want to meet him.”

Ivy Manor, Christmas Day 1990

I
n the kitchen fragrant with sage and butter, Bette hovered uneasily, ready to help Leigh who was in charge of the day’s feast.
Rose had the day off, though for the past two days she’d done the Christmas baking. Bette was uneasy because she needed an
opening to prepare her daughter for her Christmas surprise, one that had nothing to do with food or gifts. But she sensed
that her daughter was troubled already. And why not?
It’s Christmas and Carly’s in a war zone. And Leigh is still trying to cope with Kitty’s death. Just like the rest of us
. But Bette detected an underlying current of deeper stress in Leigh.

“Mom, I think I’m just going to put potatoes in to bake instead of making mashed potatoes. Baked potatoes are less work and
fewer calories.” Leigh sounded distracted.

Bette nodded. “Fine.” How many times had she longed to take Leigh aside and help her find a way to peace?
Look who’s talking. I’m stressed out as well. Maybe I shouldn’t have
. . .

Bette pushed away her own uncertainty. One thing didn’t have anything to do with the other. She didn’t have to depend on imagination
to know what her daughter was going through that day. Hadn’t she spent the Christmases of 1942 through 1945 worrying about
Leigh’s father, who’d been fighting in World War II?
Curt, our little girl grew up beautiful, accomplished, and . . . unhappy
. But Leigh seemed more tightly wound today than usual. Was she still at odds with Nate? How Bette wished Ted were there.
He’d always known how to make Leigh laugh.

“Leigh, I know this holiday is hard for you—”

“Mom,” Leigh answered, “we’ve got the turkey and stuffing well on their way. And I’ll just get the potatoes ready to pop into
the oven. Why don’t you just go and sit with Grandmother?”

Bette looked into Leigh’s eyes and saw that her daughter didn’t want her comfort. That hurt. Made mute, Bette tried to smile,
failed, and left the room. Well, the chips would have to fall where they would.

Saudi Arabia, Christmas Day 1990

In the long evening shadows cast by an empty tent, Carly sat with her arms wrapped around her knees beside Bowie on the cool
desert sand. Because of the holiday, they’d had light duty and a big Christmas dinner in the mess tent. In the distance, someone
was playing a CD of country Christmas music. Some guy was singing “There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays” to a weeping
electric guitar.

“I wish they’d turn that stuff off,” Bowie said, looking over his shoulder toward the source of the music.

Though in full agreement, Carly didn’t answer. She just closed the distance between them and rested her head on his shoulder.
Fortunately Bowie didn’t seem to mind that she’d barely said a word all day. Homesickness had a choke hold on her throat.
Her first letter from her birth father since her deployment was tucked into her pocket. The note had been brief but had promised
that if she wanted to see him, he would arrange it in the new year. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

“It’s time.” Bowie helped her up.

She again said nothing but let him lead her to the USO tent and the line of people waiting for their turns at the telephones
to call home. She and Bowie had signed up and been given an hour time frame in which to report. So they waited patiently,
silently.

She appreciated that Bowie was never uneasy over her silences. She took his hand and squeezed. He squeezed back. The line
moved slowly, and the heart-wrenching Christmas song “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” floated over them. Finally, Carly arrived
at the head of the line. She dialed Ivy Manor’s phone number from memory. Her pulse quickened as the phone rang and rang.

“Hello.” Nate’s rushed voice came over the line.

“Dad, it’s me, Carly.” And her throat closed up again as tears trickled down her cheeks. She kept her back to the soldiers
behind her. Only Bowie stood at her side, a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“Carly!” Nate exclaimed and then called, “It’s Carly! Pick up the extensions!” Then he spoke to her again. “Sweetheart, we’ve
missed you so today. How are you? We saw some footage of the army’s Christmas meal. Have you eaten—”

“Carly,” Chloe and Bette said simultaneously, “how are you?”

Carly sucked in her tears and tried to speak normally. “I’m fine. Just miss all of you.”

“We miss you,” her mother said, coming on the line. “What are you doing today?”

“The usual stuff.” Carly forced the words over the lump in her throat. “Ate turkey and dressing, pumpkin pie. There’s lots
of Christmas music, and thanks for the care package. I really needed everything you sent.”

“I thought you needed the chocolates the most,” Nate said.

Carly laughed in spite of her tears. “Yes, and tell Rose her sugar cookies vanished in record time.”

“What do they have you doing?” Chloe asked.

“Oh, the usual. We’re fixing vehicles. Windblown sand here is constant and we have to keep cleaning and double-filtering fuel
and oil lines.”

“Do you need anything more?” Bette asked in an anxious voice.

“I could use some more foot powder. I really use it up fast. Since the Saudi water supply is being strained by the sheer number
of all the troops, we have to use water sparingly. The foot powder and talc really help keep me comfortable.”

“I’ll send you a case,” Nate said.

“I have a surprise for you, Carly,” Leigh said. “I’ll be seeing you soon. I’m going to be on assignment in Saudi in January.”

Carly stood frozen in place—part of her happy, part of her shocked and suddenly very angry. Couldn’t her mother stick to her
own life? “I want you to meet someone,” Carly retaliated instantly, her voice becoming stronger. “This is my very good friend,
Bowie Jenkin.”

Bowie’s eyes widened, but he accepted the phone. “Uh, Merry Christmas, everybody.” He pulled Carly close to his ear so they
could listen together.

“Merry Christmas,” the voices from Ivy Manor chorused in return and then there was a pregnant silence.

“Where are you from, Bowie?” Bette asked. “Did I get your name right?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m Bowie from Red Bay, Alabama.”

“I bet you’re missing your family, too,” Bette said.

“Yes, ma’am. I got to call them right before Carly called you. Well, here’s your girl.” He handed her the phone.

The USO volunteer waved her wristwatch at Carly, the signal that Carly was to finish up her call. “My time’s almost up. Where’s
Michael?”

“I’m here, sis,” her little brother spoke loudly into the phone. “I’m with Dad in the front hall. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, munchkin.” How Carly wanted to hold her little brother on her lap again. “Was Santa good to you?”

“Yeah.” Michael sounded sad. “When can you come home?”

“I don’t know, kid.” Suddenly the bond of family, the ties of blood, hit Carly like a Scud. And in that moment, she forgave
her mother for butting into her life once more. The letter in her pocket tugged at her, too. Why were family ties never easy
for her?

The USO volunteer tapped her watch.

“My time’s up. I love you all.” Carly’s love was echoed back at her and then with a final “Merry Christmas,” she hung up.
She turned to Bowie, who took her hand and led her away. Tears blurred her vision, and his arm came around her shoulders again.
“Let’s go somewhere where we can be alone,” she whispered.

Bette had been on the den phone while Chloe, Nate, and Michael had been in the front hall. Leigh had come from the kitchen
and they all met in the parlor where Nate bent to light a fire.

Still reeling from Leigh’s unexpected announcement about going to Saudi Arabia, Bette crossed to the sofa. Opposite her, Leigh
setttled on the love seat and Michael knelt on the floor, playing with his newest Matchbox cars.

“Carly sounded well,” Chloe said. She wavered a little on her feet, and Nate sprung up from putting the fire screen in place
and helped her into the wing chair.

“Thank you, Nate. I feel a little shaky today. Maybe I should get out my cane again.”

“Good idea. I’ll get it for you before you get up again,” Nate said.

“I wonder if Bowie is just a friend or if Carly’s dating him,” Chloe said, obviously steering the conversation away from Leigh’s
bombshell.

Bette studied Nate, who stood by the hearth, not moving to his wife’s side. He looked stiff and unhappy. What did he think
of Leigh going to a war?

“But this Bowie’s from Alabama,” Leigh blurted out.

Nate chuckled. “Alabama notwithstanding, I would guess she’s at least
interested
in him. Otherwise I doubt she’d have put him on the phone.”

The doorbell rang and everyone looked up. Bette leaped to her feet, her heart suddenly hammering. “I’ll get it.” She hurried
to the front door and there he stood—silver-haired, fit-looking, handsome in a gray trench coat and carrying a beribboned
box of candy.

“Merry Christmas, Bette.” Dan leaned over and kissed her lips. “You look lovely.”

She wanted to warn him that she’d been a coward and hadn’t told anybody but her mother about inviting him to Christmas dinner.
But his kiss muddled her mind. And she couldn’t hold back a smile. “And you look very dashing.”

Hanging his coat on the hall tree, he chuckled and then took her elbow. “Let me guess. I’m your Christmas surprise?”

She blushed and opened her mouth.

But with a finger pressed against her lips, he prevented her from speaking. “Let’s go in then.”

Stomach fluttering, she led him to the parlor door. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my friend Dan Greenfield.”

Chloe stood and held out her hand. “Dan, Merry Christmas.”

Dan hurried forward and clasped her hand while urging her to sit back down. He set the box of chocolates on Chloe’s lap.

Bette made the introductions, not once meeting her daughter’s eyes. Bette and Dan sat down on the sofa side by side.

“Dan,” Chloe said, “we’re trying to decide something. We just spoke with Carly—”

“Bette’s granddaughter who’s in the Gulf?”

Chloe nodded. “Carly surprised us by introducing a young man. I’m thinking that must mean he’s important to her. What do you
think?”

“I agree. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have put him on the line. Inviting someone to a family holiday is a statement.” Dan’s audacious
words hung over the parlor.

Blushing, Bette hazarded a glance at her daughter. Leigh’s face was flushed, and she’d crossed her arms tightly. Bette’s heart
sank. There was no peace on earth this Christmas, not even at Ivy Manor.