When he stopped, Danny looked over at Lum, then back at Zach. “I don’t understand. You helped break her fall?”

  “I did.”

  “But surely that was‍—‍”

  “I grabbed her waist.”

  “And?”

  He blinked. “She was white.”

  “Okay … ?”

  He shook his head. “You two aren’t color blind. You know how it is. A colored man grabbing a white woman? Folks been lynched for less.”

  Danny swallowed hard. Lum just shook his head.

  “When she turned ’round to thank me, her eyes went wide, and she stopped mid-sentence. I was used to that, of course. Still, she thanked me anyway, which I appreciated, and allowed me to help her limp to a nearby bench. By the time she was taking a seat, a group of guys rushed over and shoved me away from her. And that’s when it got ugly.”

  “White guys?” Lum asked.

  Zach leveled his eyes at him but said nothing. He didn’t have to.

  “You mean they beat you up right there in the middle of campus and no one intervened?” Danny asked.

  “At first, they just bullied me up a bit. Cussed me out. Knocked the books out of my hands. The girl, she tried to explain what happened, how I was just trying to help. Course, they didn’t listen to her. They called me names, but nothin’ I haven’t heard before. Then they told me to keep my hands off their women and get on outta there if I knew what was good for me.

  “So I gathered up my books and hurried off. They must’ve followed me, ’cause once I got behind Abbott Hall, they jumped me.”

  Danny hated this. Hated the shade of resigned sorrow in Zach’s eyes. Hated the bullies who did this. Hated the whole situation. He’d known plenty of bigots in the Army Air Corps, mostly guys from down South, but he’d also known more than a few growing up here in Chicago. But he’d never come face to face with the brutal reality of the lengths to which people like that would go to harass a colored person. The thought tightened the knot in his gut.

  “Did you go to the hospital?” Danny asked. “Those wounds look serious.”

  He shook his head again. “No, wasn’t anything they could do, and no sense making a fuss. They’d have to call in the police, and that would just mean more trouble. Mama did the best she could. It’s a lot better than it was.”

  “But shouldn’t you have some X-rays or something?” Lum asked. “To make sure you don’t have broken ribs or a concussion?”

  “I appreciate your concern. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

  “What about school? Think you’ll be back in class next week?” Danny asked.

  “That’s my plan.” A slow smile eased the tension on his face. “If I can survive a few punks messin’ with me, I figure I can handle Critchfield.”

  Lum laughed. “You’ve got that right.”

  Danny leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If you don’t mind my asking, shouldn’t you report this to the authorities on campus? Otherwise, what happens when you run into those guys again? It’s a fairly small campus, so you’re bound to cross paths with them at some point.”

  Zach inhaled and slowly released his breath. “Look, you all are mighty kind for comin’ by and checkin’ in on me. But you’ve got to understand; I’ve been black my whole life, y’know? I know the drill. Y’all need to let me worry about those boys. Not a whole lot you can do, though I surely appreciate your concern.”

  Danny glanced briefly at Lum. “Well, I want you to know you’re not alone. I know that sounds simplistic, but I mean it. I realized this morning that today is the first anniversary of V-E Day. We all fought in the same war, and the way I see it, that makes us brothers.”

  “A whole year now? That’s hard to believe,” Lum added. “But Danny’s right, Zach. That war made us brothers. And proudly so, I might add.”

  Zach said nothing for a moment, just slowly nodded as he looked first at Lum then over at Danny. “I appreciate that. I do.”

  Danny nodded at Lum and stood. “We need to let you get some rest.”

  As Lum stood to join Danny, Mrs. Jones returned with a tray of cookies and lemonade. Her entire countenance had changed.

  “Zachariah, where are your manners, son? These nice young men came all this way to see you, the least you can do is offer them some refreshments.”

  Zach’s smile crept across his face. “Mama, you been listenin’ in on our conversation? Aren’t you always tellin’ me it’s impolite to eavesdrop?”

  “Hush, boy. It’s not my fault these walls are paper thin.” She set the tray down and served her guests. “Besides, it’s not every day we have nice fellas who fought in the war like you to stop by our house to visit. The way I see it, it’s my patriotic duty to offer these here boys a bite or two.”

  “That’s mighty kind of you, Mrs. Jones,” Lum said. “These cookies sure look good.”

  “Yes, and thank you, Mrs. Jones,” Danny added, accepting the glass she handed him. “That’s very kind of you.”

  She straightened her posture and folded her hands in front of her aproned waist. “Now. There’s somethin’ I need to say.”

  Zach chuckled. “Oh Mama, I think you’ve said quite enough today.”

  “Hush, Zachariah. Not speakin’ to you, son. I’m speakin’ to your friends here. Boys, my heart nearly broke when Zachariah came home that day, barely able to walk and bleedin’ all over.”

  Her eyes moistened as she tried to keep her composure. “The hardest part ain’t the beatin’. Lord knows my boys have had their share, and every time it happens, I tell ’em they’ve got to turn the other cheek, just like Jesus told us. I tell ’em God won’t give ’em more than they can handle, and to stand right back up and remember that Jesus bore a mighty bad beatin’ before they hung Him on that cross.

  “So the beatin’ part ain’t what scares me. What scares me and keeps me up at night, is a country that trains my boy to fly its airplanes and sends him way over t’other side of the world to fight that awful Hitler and those mean Nazis, and risk his life every single day, only to send him back home and treat him without so much as a hint of respect. That’s what breaks my heart. That’s what scares me so. Because a country that can do somethin’ so disrespectful is a country without a soul. A country I can’t love, no matter how much I wish I could. I can’t. I just can’t.”

  A quick dab at her eyes with a handkerchief, and she was done.

  “Now Mama, don’t start that cryin’ again.”

  “I’m just fine, thank you. Mind your own business, son.”

  They chatted a few more minutes and finished their refreshments.

  “Mrs. Jones, thank you again for your hospitality,” Lum said.

  “Yes, thank you, ma’am. It was an honor to meet you. I know I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but I would surely like to make amends for what your son’s been through.”

  “That goes for me too,” Lum echoed. “Tell us what we can do and consider it done.”

  “You comin’ here and bein’ a friend to my boy, that’s an awful good start. It sure enough is.”

  10

  Danny bent over to tie his shoe, wishing Anya would change her mind. “You sure you won’t come with us? We won’t stay but a few minutes since Joey has to open the theater.”

  “No, I need to stay home and do our laundry. Besides, I think I should spend some time cooking with your mother today. You all go ahead and visit Marv.”

  “But you’d brighten his day, honey. Remember how happy he was to finally meet you on Opening Day?”

  “Maybe next time.”

  Something was bothering her. At such times, he’d learned it was best not to push.

  When he returned home yesterday afternoon, he’d noticed she was unusually quiet and remained so throughout most of the evening. When he asked about the small bandage on her forehead, she’d shrugged, dismissing it as a careless mishap in the stockroom at Chaney’s. He offered to re-dress the wound, but she said it wasn’t necessary.

  “Anya?”

  “Yes?” she answered, finally lifting her eyes.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  He finished tying his shoes and reached for her hand, tugging her gently to come sit beside him on the bed.

  “Something is obviously not all right. Have I said something wrong? Or have I done something that‍—‍”

  “I told you, nothing’s wrong.” She started to stand, but he held a firm grip on her hand.

  “You know you can talk to me about anything. I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy, sweetheart.”

  She pinned him with a stare. “I said I’m fine. I just don’t want to go to the hospital, okay?”

  “And that’s fine. But what’s‍—‍”

  She stood up, pulling free of his grasp. “One thing I will never get used to is how much you Americans want to talk, talk, talk about everything. As if dissecting a bug under a microscope from a hundred different angles. I said I was fine, and there’s nothing more to be said.”

  “Okay,” he said softly, raising his hands in surrender.

  He noticed the faintest flicker of sadness in her eyes as she turned to walk toward the window.

  “Please don’t read more into it, Danny,” she said with a heavy sigh. “You should go. Joey just pulled up out front.”

  He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the top of her head. “I love you, Anya Versteeg McClain. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, okay?”

  She nodded and patted his hand.

  A few minutes later, as his brother pulled away from the curb, Danny scratched the back of his neck. “Answer me this. Has there ever come a time when you understood everything about Millie? When you didn’t have to ask a million questions to find out why she quit talking to you or won’t even look you in the eye?”

  “Rough day in the love nest, baby brother?”

  Danny twisted his head on one side then the other, popping the kinks in his neck. “I don’t know. I just want her to be happy, but the harder I try, the more it seems to aggravate her.”

  “Anything in particular?”

  “How would I know?”

  “I see your point. Well, I will say, whenever I get the feeling that Millie isn’t herself, or even a bit grouchy‍—‌which I have to say is really rare‍—‌I just give her some space, and she usually comes around. Probably learned that from watching Mom deal with Dad’s moods all those years.”

  Danny glanced over at his brother. “I hadn’t thought of that. You’re probably right.”

  “The way I see it, that’s the only way she could handle his crabby moods and grouchy disposition. And in Anya’s case, don’t forget she’s still adjusting to living halfway around the world in a totally different culture. That, and dealing with everything that happened to her during the war.”

  “I know. I guess I’ll never totally understand all she went through.” He looked out the window. “Remember the other day when I told you about the veterans I meet with at school?”

  “The ones from your class with that jerk professor?”

  “Yes, those guys. Mostly, I think they just need a chance to vent about how hard it’s been since they’ve been back from the war. And I have to say, after hearing some of their struggles, I realize how lucky I’ve been. Some of them are really messed up emotionally.”

  “I’ve heard it called ‘shell shock’. I came home with some messed-up thoughts and memories of my own. I still have nightmares, but not as bad.”

  “I didn’t know that. What kind of nightmares?”

  “It’s like I’m reliving the day Pearl was attacked in slow motion. I know what’s going to happen, but I’m paralyzed. Can’t speak. Can’t move. I see the dead stares of my crewmates. I smell the burning flesh and oil so thick it gags me. Millie always wakes me. She says I’m coughing and crying.”

  Danny squeezed Joey’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. I had no idea.”

  “Like I said, it’s better. Millie prays with me whenever it happens. I don’t know what I’d do without her, to be honest.”

  “A lot of these guys talk about nightmares so bad, they’re afraid to go to sleep at night.”

  “I can believe it.”

  “I was spared from horrors like that. Well, except for the time my pilot died right beside me in the cockpit from shrapnel wounds. But I always had a sick feeling whenever we dropped our bombs on targets. It’s like I could see in my mind all the innocent people below we were killing. You think you’re protected from it because you’re way up in the clouds, but it always gave me chills.”

  “Count your blessings. Thank God you don’t have those actual haunting images forever impaled in your mind.”

  “I thank God every day, Joey. But I know Anya has haunting images of her own. Much worse than mine. That’s why I mentioned the guys I meet with. I listen to these guys sharing their war stories, and it seems to really help them. And face it, only someone else who’s been in similar situations can understand what they’re talking about. A lot of them say their wives can’t comprehend what they’ve been through and don’t want to hear about it. One guy said it’s like adding bricks to a wall between him and his wife. Every time he tries to talk to her about it, and she refuses to listen, it adds one more brick on top of the others. He doesn’t think their marriage will survive.”

  “The other day Millie was telling me about an article she read in some women’s magazine about the divorce rate of veterans and their wives skyrocketing unlike any time in our history.”

  “I’m just wondering if Anya is struggling with something like that. I’ve told her a million times she can talk to me about anything, but most days she dismisses it; doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s like she’s pushing it down deep inside her and keeping me at arm’s length. And that can’t be good.”

  “No, it isn’t. When I was recovering at the VA Hospital after Pearl, a chaplain came and talked to me every day. Sometimes twice a day. Made a world of difference, even though I realize I may never be totally free of it. Maybe Anya should talk to someone. Think she’d ever open up to Mom?”

  “I don’t know. I wish she would. Mom would love to help her sort out all those thoughts and feelings. But I think it should probably be someone outside the family.”

  “What about Reverend Forsythe? He’s a great guy and seems real down to earth.”

  “I hadn’t thought of him. Not a bad idea.”

  “In the meantime, just give Anya some space and take it one day at a time.”

  “You’re right. I guess I get a little impatient. I just want her to be happy. That’s it. No hidden agendas or ulterior motives. I just want her to let go of the past and make a fresh start, you know?”

  Joey pulled into the parking lot at St. Charles Hospital. “Like I said, just take it one day at a time. That’s all any of us can do, right? Oh rats. Did you bring that card Mom asked us to‍—‍”

  “Right here,” Danny said, patting his shirt pocket.

  “Thank goodness. Now let’s go see if we can cheer up our buddy Marv.”

  “I’ve always loved the fragrance of clothes fresh off the line,” Betty said as Anya brought in the laundry. “Something about all that sunshine and good clean air, I suppose.”

  Anya let the back-porch screen door slap behind her. She leaned over and pressed her nose against the folded sheets and clothing. “I see what you mean. I never stopped to notice it before.”

  “Well, see? Something new to enjoy.” Betty lifted the bowl of green beans she’d been snapping and set them aside. “Anya, I have something for you.” She dug in her apron pocket and handed her a letter. “It’s from your friend Gigi, isn’t it?”

  “Yes!” she said, taking the envelope. “You met her at the harbor the day we arrived in New York.”

  “The one with the pretty blonde curls?”

  “Yes, that’s her.” She set the basket of laundry on the floor and carefully pried open the envelope.

  “You sit and enjoy your letter. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

  “Thank you, Betty.”

  Her heart soared with joy at the familiar curly handwriting as she took a seat. Oh, how she missed her friends. She unfolded the lavender stationery and sat back to read the letter.

  Dear Anya,

  Sometimes I can hardly believe it’s only been three months since we all arrived in New York! It feels like it’s been years, doesn’t it? I miss you so much‍—‌and Sybil too.

  How are you, Anya? Are you adjusting to living in America? What is it like living with Danny’s family? Do you like his parents? When I think of you, I imagine you so happy, living with your handsome and adoring husband‍—‌all the war years behind you, all the long months waiting to sail here and into his arms forever!

  Paul and I are so ridiculously happy, I actually cringe whenever I think back on all the flirting I did in his absence. We are inseparable, and so much more than I ever would have dreamed. We can’t keep our hands off each other, always kissing and snuggling. Which made for some awkward situations since we were living with his parents. His father travels a lot, so he’s rarely home. His mother Francis is a beautiful woman and quite the socialite, but ever so possessive of her only son. In every imaginable way, she let me know he was hers first, as if we’re in some kind of competition for his affection. Have you ever heard anything so silly?

  The stories I could tell you … for example, I’m sure you know how difficult it is to be quiet when you and Danny want to be intimate (if you know what I mean). Well, imagine seeing your mother-in-law’s shadow hovering beneath your bedroom door at a time like that! Not just once, but all the time! I finally confronted her about it and told her to stop invading our privacy, and of course she denied it. But you should have seen how many shades of crimson her face turned. Guilty as charged!

 

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